Eye to Eye
by knirbenrots
Summary: She doesn't know if it is wise or not, but Hetty Lange sends Callen on a black operation.
1. Chapter 1

**Eye to Eye**

She doesn't know if it is wise or not, but Hetty Lange sends Callen on a black operation.

 _Eye to Eye, chapter 1_

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Disclaimer: All the characters [except the OC] are known from the original NCIS Los Angeles series: they were made up by Shane Brennan and belong to CBS.

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Will Rogers Beach, Los Angeles || January 3**

He strolled around the beach without seriously realizing where he was.  
The place was nearly deserted at this time of the day. Besides, the weather wasn't too inviting. It'd drizzled throughout the day and the grey day kept many people inside.

He had intended to go for a short run, instead he just had killed a full 7 miles. He now slowed down to an ordinary walk. Whereas Callen usually payed a lot of attention to his surroundings, this time he simply shut off his agent-like behavior, his thoughts in a whirl.

Should he have done things differently? Had Joelle been right? Should he have asked director Vance for another kind of job within the NCIS?  
He shook his head, more or less to himself. True, his job was no nine-to-fiver but it's odd working time would never change, not even if he'd ask for a transfer to a desk-job. On the other hand, working from behind the desk would be saver job. Still, he wondered if he would ever like a desk-job.  
He came to a halt, watched how the waves came rolling in. Listened to them, splashing onto the beach, and took in the loud screams of seagulls.  
Again, he subconsciously shook his head. Nope. What Joelle needed was something he could not offer. Not now, not in future, never. And frankly, he was grateful she had been clear about that. He had felt it coming too. The past few months were different, although he had not been able to put a finger on it. Callen also was aware that if she hadn't broken up their relationship, he would've done it. It would not have been fair to leave what was left of the love and their friendship, dangling any longer.

Callen had hoped things would be different after he had decided to be honest towards her about his job. Instead, she had hoped he would quit his job in the end. Joelle hated the continuous unease and fear when he came home late, or stayed away because of an undercover operation. He, on the other hand, had felt uncomfortable with having to talk about things like furniture, dinner parties or hanging around with teachers, although he noticed how she felt at ease in those situations.  
He blamed himself since he realized he should have cut her loose earlier, much earlier. All he cared about right now, was if he had not hurt her, which had never been his intention.

For once, he had hoped he would have been able to have a real relationship. Perhaps even an ordinary family life. Who did he try fool, her or himself?

He blinked his eyes several times, chilled right now. He should get moving. Callen heaved a deep sigh. Perhaps… no, he knew it was for sure he was feeling alright. And it felt weird and he didn't know if he dared to admit that to himself. He breathed in deep. The fresh ocean air worked nearly soothing. He stretched and decided he could do it again, run the full 7 miles back.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Veteran Avenue 631 || one and a half hour later**

The dark grey Mercedes slowed down halfway the street. By now, Callen was fully aware again that someday, someone might be around, someone who would come for an unexpected revenge. Not today. He drove further down the street to the place he called home, parked the car in front of it and got out.

Callen opened his front door and quickly deactivated the safety alarm. Then he kicked off his running shoes and hurried to the bathroom, where he stripped off his wet and sweaty clothes and took a warm shower.

Minutes later he walked into his kitchen, barefoot and his shirt loose.

The shortest rustle of a fabric made him turn to where the soft noise came from. He knew it was no use to grab for his gun.

"If you came around to find out about the 'why and how' you have to know I don't feel like talking."

There was no response, and so he shrugged. "And it's no use waiting until I start to talk."  
Callen moved to his fridge and took a bottle of beer from it, opened it and held up another one. "You want one?"

The look on Hetty Lange's face was a sad one and she shook her head. "If you must know, Mr. Callen, I did not come in here to talk about the break-up between you and miss Taylor."

He put his bottle aside. "Hetty? What's wrong?" Her face suddenly looked aged, he noticed and the worry on it nearly scared him.

Nervously, the older operations manager stared at her hands which she kept folded in her lap.

"It's about one of our own, Mr. Callen."

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TBC.

Thank you for reading. A review is welcome, as ever! Kni®benrots


	2. Eye to Eye, chapter 2

**Eye to Eye**

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 _"What exactly do you know about what she's been doing?"_

 **Eye to Eye, chapter 2**

Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews you left, Shaz1, TheKay79, Wotumba, Skippy, Motsie, ToriElton, F4llon, designherxox, Blackbear53, JaniceS, Tiffany, jmlane1966, Linda Wiggington, Ilse and EvaMcBain

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Gone were the thoughts about what had happened during these passed weeks – exactly what Joelle had meant. He breathed in deep, trying to get rid of the hollow feeling of fear he suddenly felt in his chest.  
All he could utter was a shaky "Hetty?"

In matters of seconds he recalled where his team, his coworkers, should be right now.  
Sam and Michelle who had been looking forward to enjoy their time off at some fancy Miami holidays facility with their kids. Kensi and Deeks in a cozy cabin somewhere high up in the mountains, perhaps with their mothers. Eric who had been muttering something about an obligatory trip with his parents to Toronto. And Nell… he was pretty sure she planned visiting her extensive family in New York.

It took a while before the older woman shook her head, wordlessly understanding his thoughts. "They should be fine." She paused and repeated, softer now. "They should be fine, Mr. Callen."  
She sat in his comfy chair and looked up at the man, who leaned on the breakfast bar in this bare and empty living room.  
Again, she slowly shook her head. "It's not about them, my dear boy. We should trust they will be alright. No, this is—what I need you to do. You do remember Miss Stevens?"

He caught the slightest trace of embarrassment in her voice and he understood it was because of one of the first and real quarrels they'd had once Callen found out that Grace Stevens was, like Hunter, Sullivan and himself, one of the orphans Hetty had taken care for and who was recruited for either NCIS or one of the other agencies.

He nodded a confirmation to her in a warm way, prompting to make her continue without interrupting.

"Well, she is currently stationed at our office in Ankara, Turkey."

Again, Hetty paused. This time he took it as an encouragement. "I see… So, she finally made the decision to change her career."  
Callen remembered the conversation he and Grace Stevens had in the past. Both of them afraid they'd become a second Hetty, alone with no relatives around, and accepting the everlasting cover ops which came with their jobs.

"She should be safe in Turkey. Covering the fleet's operations in the Mediterranean and part of the Middle East. Every now and then, she texts me, or gives me call. Asking me how I've been and so on. However, I got the strangest call about two hours ago."

"Go on, Hetty. I've got the feeling you want me—"

She interrupted promptly. "Indeed. I need you to go and repatriate her. Immediately."

Callen nodded, about to go and grab his go-bag. "So I figure you already got me a ticket?"  
It wasn't that he looked forward to a long flight, but the sooner he left, the sooner he'd be back.

There was another uncomfortable hesitation this time, then she took her far too large handbag and dug through its contents. "A one way flight to the city of Varna." She handed him the papers and checked her watch. "Plane's leaving in less than an hour from LAX, Mr. Callen."

He spun and faced her again, blurting out "What do you mean, Varna… Whatever happened to Turkey?"

She pursed her lips and shook her head with a soft smile, understanding his unease. "Varna, Bulgaria, Mr. Callen. May I remind you there's no airport in Varna, Romania. And truth is, I really don't know why she's in Bulgaria, Mr. Callen. All I got from Miss Stevens was her request to come and save her."

He buttoned the shirt and put on his socks. While doing that he looked up in her wise, pale blueish, eyes. "What exactly do you know about what she's been doing?" He wanted to know.

Her reply came quick this time. "Unfortunately, nothing." She watched how he obviously got ready for the trip and she managed to hide her worries.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Varna, Bulgaria || over 20 hours later**

There had been three main things Callen had during the past 14 hours.  
One of these things was sleeping. He knew he needed to be sharp once in Bulgaria and from experience he also knew he slept quite easily once in the air.

Next to that, there had been plenty of time to practice his Bulgarian. Sure, Callen knew that he'd manage in Romani in the region he was about to visit, or simply in one of the dialects of the Russian language. However, it was some kind of a challenge to at least try and understand what he'd hear around him.

The third thing he did during his flight was reading through the files, the very thin files, Hetty had sent over to his notebook. Despite the fact he knew how far Hetty's influence reached, the intel he had on the whereabouts of Grace Stevens were poor.

During his long career he'd been on several unexpected operations, alone or with the back-up of a partner and in any possible other situation. As long as there was some information about the person or the location he had to look for.  
Callen travelled light, used as he was to blend in any surroundings under any circumstances. It worried him though that he would be this close to Romania — too close in his opinion to Saturn and Constanta.

He was pretty sure Hetty would arrange for a life-saving package once he arrived. He'd need a weapon and a local prepaid phone.  
The last message Hetty sent him - and which he deleted within the minute - was that if he'd find his place to Enterprise, a Mitsubishi Outlander would wait, booked for a mister Joseph Taylor.  
He could hate her for that, knowing she'd hinted at his break-up with Jo. On the other hand he simply let it go - it was just another alias, like it was a jacket he'd borrow from Hetty's wardrobe.

The keys to the dark grey car were handed to him by the young receptionist of the rental company. Her face, completely plastered with make-up, showed no emotion at all when she addressed him in English with a thick accent.  
"Oh, and sir? There are these items which go with the rent of your car."  
She turned to a large cabinet, pressed a code and the door opened. Then she took a sealed package from it which she handed him without any questions.

"I don't have to sign for it?" Callen asked.

There was a shake of the head as an answer. "It's okay," the young woman said, definitely not in the mood to talk.

He shrugged. "Blagodarya. Chao," [Thank you, bye] he said as he took the items and his go-bag again and left to get the car which was driven in front of the reception area already.  
Callen got in the car and checked the navigation system for the nearest supermarket. Then he opened the package which he received and wasn't surprised at all to find a prepaid phone and a SigSauer. He drove towards the supermarket, parked his car in the lot, disabled the navigation system in case anyone would want to check and track the car's GPS and got out of the car again.  
He quickly did the maths.  
With the time difference and the time he'd flown, he lost nearly a full day. He needed to contact Hetty, who should be up already, and see and hear if there was any news from Grace. If so, he should find out what arrangements he could make. From then on, he'd have to be in action.

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 _Thank you for reading! Feel free to review!_


	3. Eye to Eye, chapter 3

Eye to Eye

 _~ For those who noticed him — they'd see what they wanted to see, what he wanted them to see. ~_

 **Eye to Eye, chapter 3**

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

The immediate extradition was less immediate in the end.

From the parking lot near the shopping center, he called the number he knew by heart, to hear what Hetty heard in the meantime.

"Numbers, dear boy. Numbers." It was all she told him as she started mentioning a series of numbers which she knew she did not have to explain any further.  
Coordinates and time. He scribbled them on the receipt of the car rental company.

"So I guess it means I could catch some sleep," Callen replied.

"Indeed it does." Her voice remained calm, her message short. "Take care. Call the other number in case things take another turn."

He nodded, though he was aware it was something Hetty could not see. "Fifteen hours. After that, you know I did not succeed."

There was no reply, just the short click, which meant she hung up. He checked his watch. One minute, fourteen seconds. Within the infamous two minutes, Short enough to keep the call untraceable in both countries. No names, no further intel.

Callen got out of the car, entered the shopping center and, paying with the bunch of cash levs he bought two new prepaid cards for the phone. He ditched the one that was in the phone but did not replace it yet.  
The city map showed a family hotel nearby. The holiday season wasn't over yet, but the hotels would not be crowded like in the summertime. Places like this hotel Argo, in Varna's city center, would attract both families as business people.  
Safe enough.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Varna, Bulgaria, hotel Argo || 10:00 PM**

Two hours later, the lonely businessman sat at a table in the lobby in the hotel. Freshly showered, clean shaven, dressed in a dark grey pair of jeans, which combined well with the light blue button-down shirt. For the occasion, he left his tie and jacket away.  
For those who noticed him — they'd see what they wanted to see, what he wanted them to see.

He sipped from his Turkish coffee and studied one of the newspapers he fetched from the reception.

In fact, its Cyrillic script held no surprises for him but he only scanned the headlines, wondering meanwhile what to do for the next couple of hours.

Callen finished his coffee and got up. There were several folders which highlighted the city's sights, and a city map with some of Varna's surroundings.

He took it with him, folded it and tuck it into his pockets, knowing it might come in handy.

Then he took a seat at the bar, ordered a beer and looked around. So far, he'd seen some other people who travelled or stayed around alone, like himself. He spotted the same older man who had dinner at the same time as him. Grey hair, grey suit. His clothes were rather wrinkled, which went for the skin on his face, near his eyes, as well. With that, he had a moustache which he hadn't taken care of lately, since it needed some trimming.

"Nasdrave!" Callen held up his glass, wishing the other man a nice drink as well.

There were two woman sitting opposite of each other, each of them busy with their phones or hand-held computer. He didn't know if they travelled together or apart from each other. Callen narrowed his eyes.  
The woman who faced him was, he assumed, halfway her thirties. Long blond hair, perfectly manicured hands and nails. Maybe a stewardess, maybe an international lawyer. The other woman sat, perfectly straight, a cell phone in her left hand, a glass of wine next to it. Left handed, he observed. No nail varnish like her companion. Dark, nearly black, wavy hair which barely reached her shoulders. Both women were dressed rather casual, suiting the time of the day.

At one of the other tables sat a family. Two boys, the youngest yawning. Bedtime, he mused. The older brother must have said something teasing, in a language Callen did not understand. It made the mother say something sharp, and the older boy got up in a rush, leaving the others.

Callen sighed. Like the boy, he needed some time alone. He finished his beer, counted the coins he had with him and paid, leaving a tip for the bartender.

He walked by the table where the blonde sent him a flashing smile. The other woman hardly looked up from what she was doing. Still, he caught her curious look from behind a pair of deep purple glasses she wore.

Minutes later in his hotel room, Callen opened his laptop, took his CAC card to log in and chose the personal code to identify himself. Now he was sure his moves would not be traced, not by the wrong people.

He entered the range of numbers Hetty had recited '093043626N28567E' and cursed aloud. It was even closer to Romania, farther up North, sixty miles to be exactly, a place called Krapets.

'What is it that you're up to, Grace,' he muttered.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS Office of Special Projects, Los Angeles || January 4**

Henrietta Lange stirred her hot tea.  
So far, she had resisted calling any of the other agents and sent them to Europe as well. Never mind the fact she knew both Grace Stevens as G. Callen were excellent and experienced agents, there was the nagging feeling that things might take the wrong turn.  
Since Grace Stevens had not let her know why she was in Bulgaria and why she wanted to leave the country so badly to need help with it, but only let her know the set time for that, she wished she had ears and eyes around the place herself.  
Relying on others was a task which was a burden, heavier to carry by the day.

For now, she could only hope her decision to take precautions and have someone else watching out for her agents, would just be an unneeded step.

She sighed deeply, her thoughts far away. She took a sip of her tea. It was too hot and she burned her tongue, something that hardly ever happened.

"Oh bugger."

The exclamation sounded loud, however, in the now deserted office there was no-one around who'd take notice of that.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Krapets Beach, unnamed Road || January 5, before 09:30 AM**

Early in the morning Callen put a new card in his cell phone and left the hotel. He took the car and drove up North on the highway 9. At 9:18 Callen parked the car next to a small, unoccupied beach-house. He scanned the surroundings. Nothing out of the ordinary, not now.

He'd expected Grace to be around already, eager to get away — from what?

He checked his gun again, assured it was ready to use, if necessary. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and breathed in deeply, concentrating on the crucial next 10 minutes. After all, this was the moment he'd needed to be at his best. Then he left the car, stood for a moment to watch what was going around on the beach.

Obviously, it was dog walking time.  
A family of three, a bright red ball — the yellow retriever never minded splashing into the cold January water. Two men walked passed with a dog that kept looking up to check if it was doing what the boss expected it to do.

He shivered. Early January in Bulgaria certainly was much colder than early January in Los Angeles. Although he put on a warm sweater and pulled up the zipper of his leather coat, Callen still felt the cold breeze chilling him if he stood like he did. He walked the opposite direction of there the men had gone.

Then, thunderstruck, he stopped. From the short distance, it was as if a short and horrible movie was repeated — the sad story of his own past.  
It was the boy he saw, watching his serious face as he played in the sand. Building sandcastles, even now, while his mother was looking down at her son with a broad smile on her face.

Less than 100 miles from that same place where he had been that young boy, once, and it had been his mother watching how he played. R  
ight now, he saw how it was the mother who'd dyed her hair in the same nearly black color as his own mom had hers.

It was Grace, and she gratefully mouthed 'Callen'. Forgetting to watch her back.

He saw them coming from different directions, but he was sluggish, needed to get rid of his own memories, had to focus on the here and now. Callen drew his gun, seconds before the shooting started and he hoped he aimed right and was in time to save her.

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 _Thank you for reading. Any reviews are welcome.  
_ Kni®benrots


	4. Eye to Eye, chapter 4

Eye to Eye

 _He huffed softly and smirked her way. "I've got all day. So give it all you got."_

 **Eye to Eye, chapter 4**

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Callen knew he shot one of the three men, most probably lethal. However, the other two were down too and they'd stay down — forever. He needn't worry about them, that was clear.

His bright blue eyes showed the same surprise as he saw in Grace's eyes. Her hands carried no gun, the only thing she held was the boy, as close as possible and his head facing her, so the boy never noticed what went wrong.

Who-ever did this, he didn't know. Could have been Kensi, for all he knew.  
Callen scanned the area, saw no other shooters. None of the other visitors were close enough to have witnessed what happened. He reached for her hand.

"Let's go!"

She nodded, still in shock. Gentler than he'd wished in this situation, she put the boy down on his feet.  
Callen needed them away from here, out of sight from whoever those men were, or rather, had been.

She gasped several times then spoke in a hurry "You take Alec."

He grabbed the boy, even managed to send him an encouraging smile. He looked back at the woman. "Hurry Grace," he urged.

Then he noticed why she was not as fast as he wanted her to be. Alec would soon have a brother or sister.

"My car is nearby. You think you can make it?" he asked.

Again, she nodded.

Callen wondered if he should head back to the beach and check on the men they left in there.

Perhaps she sensed what he was thinking about. "We have to leave, Callen. They're closer than I thought. What if —"

He interrupted her. "Who are they?"

"I'll tell you about it. When we're on the way." The expression on her face was calm but urging now, her voice matching. Maybe the agent in her caught up with the mother, he didn't know.

The car was within some feet now and he put the boy down. Callen smiled at him and winked as he said "I bet you can run faster than your mom, can you?"

There was a silent nod and some confidence showed in the boy's brown eyes. Then Callen pointed at the Mitsubishi. "Run, Alec! Show me!"  
The boy stood near the rear doors already and Callen waited for Grace, his gun still drawn. She took a seat in the passenger seat.

One last time he eyed the surroundings. At a distance, he now noticed a person dressed in black, saluting his way, then turning away from the place they were.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

The three of them were quiet for the first minutes. Then she broke the silence and asked "Where are we going?"

"Varna," Callen said.

"They were there," Grace softly mentioned.

He didn't respond, kept his eyes on the road and waited until she would continue. Perhaps she wouldn't, not with the boy around.

"They followed us. I mean, I saw them in Varna. We — Alec and I managed to stay out of sight for a full thirty hours. Large shops, restaurants, a hostel, the hospital. But I saw these men, these who were around just now."

"Why are they after you?" he wanted to know.

"That's a long story," Grace responded with sigh.

He huffed softly and smirked her way. "I've got all day. So give it all you got."

She bit her underlip, paused for a minute or so, then she replied. "I think it's about gas."

He knitted his brows. "Gas? Is anyone after you about gas?"

Grace shook her head. "No, I don't think it is just about the gas. But there's this place, Shabla. You'll pass it on the way to Varna. There's this off shore company. They…" She corrected herself. "I was investigating four of the marines who went in here. According to a statement, for a sun holiday. But they came back to Ankara all secretive. And then three of them were… died. Were killed perhaps."

"They let you investigate? In your situation?"

She chuckled. "Pregnant, Callen. It's not a situation. I'm pregnant, not ignorant, not sick, not paralyzed. We thought it would be less obvious if I'd hang around and observe. You know, the touristic thing. Besides, lots of those marines never saw me before and be honest, would you ever suspect a pregnant mother of a four year old boy to be spying around?"

"Now I do. Still, the situation scared the shit out of me."

"I get that," she said in a soft voice. "Hetty—"

"She told you?" Callen didn't want to believe that, yet there was a short nod as her answer.

"Thanks." She interrupted, glancing his way. "Thank you for coming, Callen. Thanks for getting us out of there."

He sent her a short smile. "Thank me later. We're not back in the US yet."

"I — we should not go back to the States Callen. In fact, by now they won't accept me to fly. You know, the thing with intercontinental flights and pregnancies."

"Really Grace, I don't have a clue. Just… why did you call Hetty to send someone to come and get you back home?" he shrugged.

"Turkey is our home now, Callen. I'm married, the father of Alec, of my kids, lives in there."

"Then why?"

She paused for another brief moment. "I need proof. Need someone who knows me, who believes me."

"And what makes you think I'm the right person?"

Grace chuckled again. "I didn't know she'd send you. I haven't told her anything."

He shook his head, not sure what to think of it so far. He'd checked his rear view mirror several times. There was nothing to be worried about, so he did what he thought was best. He took the next turn.  
To Shabla.

Before he left the car, he took his burn phone and sent a text message. To Hetty's other number. All he did was let her know was that he and Grace were safe, but he needed more time. She'd understand. It was how she knew things went, mostly different from what anyone might plan.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS Office of Special Projects || Los Angeles**

She didn't know if she should be relieved, worried or offended by the short message Callen sent her. Sure, it meant they were alright, both of them.  
Still, Hetty wished there were more details on their whereabouts.  
She sighed deeply, then did what she had postponed so far. She called the Washington number.

Director Vance answered within three buzzes. "Henrietta, what can I do for you?"

"No sweet talks, Leon?" she retorted.

"I don't think you called without a reason," the director said.

She didn't have to hide the smile on her face. "Point taken. Well, I was wondering if there's a way you can tell me if one of our agents abroad has reported to you lately?"

"Who are you talking about?" His voice sounded more strained this time.

"Grace Stevens."

It was quiet for some seconds, then he asked "How come I get the feeling I miss something?"

"Never mind, Leon. The feeling is mutual," Hetty said.

"What is it you're not saying but want to make clear?"

"To be honest, I am not too sure whether I made the right decision. But there was this most disturbing call she made. I decided—" she paused, not sure anymore if it had been wise or not to ask Callen to go there. "Well, I asked agent Callen to go and see if he'd be able to get her back from Bulgaria to our country, like she asked."

"I see," his brief reply came.

"Listen, Leon, maybe I should've asked permission beforehand. But there was this certain urge and agent Callen was available. He knows the language, the job, the region," she argued.

"Hell, he knows indeed Henrietta."

"He agreed, Leon. He knows what he's doing."

"Does he know who he's facing?"

Surprised, she asked "Do you?"

Even from the distance between them, she heard how he slowly let his breath escape through his nose. "For all I know it is about several marines and one of our own agents who's gone rough. Logically, agent Stevens should know about it."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Shabla, Bulgaria || 10.20 AM**

The man and the woman sat at a table in the small diner, close to the red-and-white lighthouse, facing the street, the empty beach with lots of blue boats ashore, and the sea behind it. They ordered coffee and drank it. The young boy who came with them, played with a small game computer, unaware of the serious talking of the two adults.

"We've got over two thousand men and women stationed in Turkey, or to put it clearer, in the Mediterranean Sea. All ready to fight IS, if necessary. Only some of them do things we would need to take a look at. And since three men died within a week, it is something we investigate. Like NCIS does everywhere."

"You keep talking about 'we'."

Grace nodded. "We work together and we kinda tossed, Steven and I. One of us should stay at the other could be around to investigate. Steven thought I needed the short break most, so here I am."

"And Steven is who and where?"

"Steven Moore is a co-worker. So, he should be at our Ankara base at this very moment," Grace explained.

"Grace," Callen said, "Are you sure Steven can be trusted?"

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Thank you all for reading and reviewing so far!  
To you all: have a great 2016 and face and/or enjoy whatever may come your way...


	5. Eye to Eye, chapter 5

Eye to Eye

 _"_ _Why were you in Krapets, not in Varna? And how did you get there?" he wanted to know._

 **Eye to Eye, chapter 5**

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Her eyes widened. "What do you mean!?" she exclaimed. She stared ahead for a short moment and, softer then, she said "Of course I trust Steven."

Callen glanced at her. His voice was colder now, his eyes harder when he asked "Are you sure you do? Who decided you were the one to go? Who knew you'd be in here? And Grace, what did you mean with 'that you hoped Hetty would send someone who believes your story'?"

This time, she sent him an angry look, yet she kept quiet.

"What if I'm right? What if the partner you work with, decided to betray his employer? Decides to manipulate the ones he works with and makes a deal with who-ever the bad guys are?"

Grace clenched her jaw, still angry, simply because Callen expressed what she hadn't want to accept at all.  
"We've worked together for the past four years. Think about that. It is like… Well not exactly like you and Sam work, but I thought — that we were sharing. Trusting. I don't want to think about it. That he'd deliberately would endanger the life of Alec, of my unborn child. I — would he really do that?"  
Tears welled up in her eyes.

Callen shrugged. "Well, I don't know the guy. What I do know is that I saw men trying to shoot you."  
This time he was silent for a second. "But then, there was somebody else shooting two of the three men. Grace, what does Steven look like?"

"Well, you might call him 'well-built'. Reddish hair and a red, short beard. Rather bulky and tall! He is about 7 feet, I figure. Why, you think he's around?"

He'd read the faint hope in her eyes, caught her eye and shook his head. Immediately he felt bad he had to disappoint her. "I'm sorry. It couldn't have been him."  
He was confused. There was a person around who might be on her side. On the other hand, it might be someone who simply wanted to get rid of the shooters, for another reason. He boxed that theory, like he pushed the person away for the time being. There were so many why's only Grace could answer, but meanwhile time was ticking.  
"Why were you in Krapets, not in Varna? And how did you get there?" he wanted to know.

"As I said. I saw those two men in Varna, the ones who, uhm, you know?" Grace's grey-blueish eyes motioned to the little boy. She wordlessly told Callen that they should mind their words, since they should not worry her son.  
"So I called Hetty. We've spent over a day hiding. I even dyed my hair, trying to change my appearance. It didn't work. Oh, and I rented a car."

"Which company?"

"Avis. Why?"

"Maybe someone in there talked. Someone checked your GPS, tracked you all the way to Krapets."

The look on her face was a puzzled one. "I didn't have that car when I arrived in Varna, Callen. It must be something else."

"We need to find out what. So I suggest we're going back to Varna. And as far as I see, we've got two options. Maybe I see to it you and Alec will have a safe passage and stay in Ankara and work from there. But for the time being the two of us can see if we can solve this case together from here, Grace. However, the moment I sense that you and the boy are in danger, I need to get you out of sight."

She understood. "Should we contact Hetty?"

Callen shook his head. "Not now. She knows we're okay. I told her that, so far, the mission is going like planned."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Varna, Bulgaria, hotel Argo || 2:00 PM**

He booked a separate room for her and her son.

Callen had insisted Grace would un-dye her hair and cut it afterward. They had a quick stop at a drugstore, bought the right stuff and a pair of reading glasses. However, the usual honey-blonde color of her hair did not come back. Instead it was now a salt-and-pepper color, but with the glasses it changed her looks completely.

Alec had watched in awe and laughed because of the looks of his mother. "Now I have a new mommy, again!"

Right now, the three of them sat at one of the tables in the hotel restaurant. The place had a save feeling. There was an emergency exit, and Callen had scanned some more ways out if necessary.

Grace relaxed and she was more like the woman he met five years ago. She smiled at her son who now was making some drawings in a small booklet. Then she looked up and asked "How've you been, Callen?"

Her question confused him. Gone was the serious talk about threats. Yet it was not like talking to Sam or Deeks, no smart-ass remarks to be made. "Okay, I guess."

"What do you mean, you 'guess'?" Her question was sincere, her eyes warmer now. "Remember the time we discussed our futures, Callen?" She let out a deep sigh. "Who would've thought that by now I would have a family? I feels great, you know."

He sent her a half smile. "It suits you fine."

She tilted her head, pushed up the glasses and aske "How about you?"

Callen simply shook his head and decided to change the discussion, avoiding her gaze. "It's foolish to endanger your kid. Your kids." He corrected himself as he lowered his voice.  
He rubbed his temples, tired now of the long flight, the thinking, the sudden way the adrenaline had left his body. "Your husband, he lives in Turkey too? Have you talked to him?"

"He knows I left for my work. And he knows what my job is about. Yeah, of course I told him."

He looked around, observed the place while he was still thinking. The older man he'd noticed the other day was around, looking exhausted right now.  
At another table, one of the women he saw the night before was having lunch. This time, she was alone, freshly showered, her dark hair still wet. He caught her curious gaze like she caught his. Her eyes were the kind of blue he couldn't really put a name on. She smiled shyly and looked away again, focusing on her food.  
Without really bothering, he wondered where the other woman was. Stewardesses, perhaps, he thought.

He breathed out heavily. "I definitely need more caffeine," he said. "How about you?"

"Sounds good."

None of them spoke for half a minute, then she started talking again.

"His name is Omur Mamais. My husband's name, I mean. His father was French, his mother Turkish. We met during the first Christmas I spent in Ankara and it was love at first sight. He works in the marina, making a good living. But he's always busy. That's why he agreed I should go and spend some days in here, even though he knew I was looking in some work related things."  
Grace sipped from her hot coffee, glanced at her table partner and sent him a sad smile. "I don't know why I'm telling you this, Callen."

Again, he let his thoughts go, then shook them off just as easily. It wouldn't have been like this for him and Joelle, not ever. It had never been love at first sight, not with them. It was more something that had grown gradually and they both had taken for granted. Hell, he knew he had accepted it, liking it that no-one was teasing anymore about the fact he didn't do relations.

He smiled back at Grace, didn't really know what to say, shrugged while again he watched the people inside the restaurant. "Maybe you should've taken some time off, with him. Enjoy a short vacation, the three of you, before the next one arrives."

"Maybe I should. But fact is that I am in here, with you and Alec, right now."

He offended her, Callen knew. He changed the subject just as quickly. "What exactly did you find out about those men who, ehm, who departed?"

"What they have in common is that they've all been visiting Shabla, though not all at the same time. And maybe there were more, I don't know, who were in Shabla. Somebody knows, like we do now. But that same somebody knows those men went for a reason, and obviously wanted those men to keep quiet. My partner linked it to gas."  
Her frown showed that Grace was all back in 'agent mode' again.

"Shabla has its beaches and those semi-submersibles, and that's about it." Callen affirmed. "But I thought Putin had decided to ban the planned gas route through Europe." He narrowed his eyes, trying to remember what else he knew about it. "Russia has its own, near Ukraine. Which might mean those in the European waters are useless by now."

"You think I should contact Steven, ask him about it? I could inform as well what made him link it to those gas drillers," Grace suggested.

Callen let her question sink in for a second, then shook his head. He didn't need to let her know again that he had his doubts about her co-worker. "I'd rather let the dream-team in LA dive into this matter. Let's finish our food. I'll call in, see if any of the others are around."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS Office of Special Projects, Los Angeles || an hour later, local time**

The desk phone rang several times before she picked it up.

\- _"Nell?"_ His voice was far away, but she recognized it immediately. She smiled and responded breathlessly. "Callen! Heard you took a trip abroad."

Within two seconds, she heard the soft click, meaning someone else was listening as well. Of course. Their petite boss was known for her all-knowing ninja style of work. Maybe Hetty saw the incoming number as well and expected him to call?

"Mister Callen. How's business going?"

\- _"Fine. We're together right now. Got a short question for Nell, about the drilling for oil or gas, Black Sea, Europe. We need to know which places are still operative and which are not."_ His reply came quick, but it was short and he avoided to tell her all.

Hetty paused, but Nell's optimistic voice sounded "Got it. Will let you know, Callen."

"Anything else?" Hetty asked. She sensed that the agent in charge whom she sent to Eastern Europe, had more questions he wanted to ask, but was hesitating to do so. Hetty understood. Grace was listening. So she continued, giving the information he was looking for.  
"I had a brief conversation with director Vance, Mr. Callen. He told me one of the agents abroad may have gone rogue. Which might endanger your mission."

\- _"Right. Not surprised about that."_

"Keep watching your back, Mr. Callen. And for your information, I took —" she paused a second. "I took some precautions."

Hetty didn't want nor needed to explain any further, but she knew he understood everything she said and he read or rather listened between the lines as well.

There was a short click. He disconnected.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Varna, Bulgaria, hotel Argo || 6:00 PM**

He had asked Grace and Alec to change rooms with his.

Grace had send him a querying look "Paranoia as ever, Callen?" and she smiled as in disbelief. However, she didn't not disagree.

"I saw that look on your face, Grace. Believe me, last thing I want for you is to get hurt. For the time being, I want you to keep out of sight."

"Really!?"

He nodded his confirmation. "Watch the tele, play a game, read a magazine, I don't care. Just stay low, will you?"  
Callen read the disappointment and the concern in her eyes and explained "Just this gut feeling I have, Grace. Don't ask me why, it's just what it is."

He left the room, took his jacket and went outside, needing some fresh air to keep his mind sharp.

If he were a smoker, he'd long for a cigarette right now. But he wasn't, never had been either. And so he shrugged a little deeper in his jacket and went to a place he always felt good although at six 'o clock in the evening it would pitch dark in there. The beach.

He knew he had to trust Grace. Hetty did, so he had to do that, and he knew he could do it as well. She couldn't be the agent who went rogue. And if it wasn't her, it must be her partner. But what was going on in here, and why?  
Callen breathed in the humid, salty air gratefully. By now, he missed Sam, and Kensi and Deeks. He missed them as friends, but also the way they shared thoughts with each other, and with Nell and Eric's sharp minds as well. He rubbed his tired neck, shivered in this winter evening chill and decided to go back.  
A good night's sleep would do miracles too.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Ten minutes later, Callen entered the hotel again. Two stairs up, the He took the key-card for his room from his pocket and entered the door. He did not know what it was. Years of experience? The slightest sound? A movement of air?  
Callen ducked while drawing his gun.  
From two places he saw how guns were fired his way. He aimed, shot, let his body slam against the wall, shot again.

He concentrated on the action, blocked the screams and the yelling, the doors which opened and slammed close again, people rushing to see what was going on. More shooting. Then the gunshots ceased and the silence was deafening for a minute.  
Callen got up, dizzier than before.  
He knew Grace and Alec were near, yet he knocked on their door.  
"Gotta get going Grace. Now!" he yelled.

They were around within the second. He still had his gun drawn, took a second magazine from his pocket, jammed it in his gun and carefully went down the stairs, motioning the mother and the son to stay closely behind.

He peeked around the corner of the doors to the lobby. Heard sirens coming nearer.

"This way," he urged and he pulled the boy towards the kitchen area. The movement caused a feeling he knew – a sudden sharp pain, the trickle of something warm and wet. He had to ignore it, only a few steps further. More alert for whoever it was, maybe waiting outside.

A dark SUV had its motor running and he heard a female voice shouting "Get in!"

* * *

 _Thanks for reading!_

Kni®benrots


	6. Eye to Eye, chapter 6

Eye to Eye

A/N Your comments and reviews are so welcome! Thank you, Janice, Skippy, Wotumba, Ilse, F4llon, Eva, Linda, countrygirl and Justine for taking the time to read and review.

Kni®benrots

* * *

Eye to Eye, chapter 6

 _"_ _So, what do you know about first aid? You think you can fix this?" he said._

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Callen halted. His left hand pushed the young boy back towards Grace. "Stay back," he hissed, biting the inside of his lip as he tried to suppress the pain.

He raised his gun again but hesitated slightly. The way this person had urged him, had urged them, to get in the car wasn't like a threat. On the contrary, it sounded very sincere, very helpful and very American. He stepped back and quickly asked Grace "Not your partner, is it? What do you think?"

They heard running feet coming their direction and Grace glanced over her shoulder. "I don't think we've got any choice, Callen. There are some armed men right behind us, so go!"

He let Grace, who didn't carry a gun, lead right now. Without too much pressure, he put his hand behind Alec's back, smiled and sent him a positive nod. "It's okay, Alec. Go with your mom!"  
Callen then stepped out, backwards, his gun still ready to fire, and got in as the last person.

"Clean the gun and the magazine. Leave no fingerprints. Then throw it out of the window."  
This time a male voice spoke. "Oh, and if any of you has a traceable cell-phone – get rid of the SIM card," the man added.

Callen took the items he carried, understood the urge of these actions. His gun could be identified with the shooting in here and sure, he could talk himself out of it. Self-defense and so on.  
But then there was the shooting on the beach in Krapets. No way the Bulgarian Police let him go, not even when he explained the situation. It would certainly not help Grace.

He glanced at the man who spoke and smirked, more or less to himself. Of course. They had been doing business in town, while staying in the same hotel, or so he thought.  
Instead the man with the bad trimmed mustache and the woman with the dark curls had been around, watching them. Because without a further look, he already knew it was she who drove the car and whose voice had sounded before.

He opened the window and threw gun, magazine and the used prepaid card outside. Grace did the same with hers.

"I certainly hope you have any — means of self-defense around, somewhere? Just in case." Callen said.

"Sure." The woman wasn't too talkative, but she pointed at the vehicle's ceiling. "Safely put away, just in case we're being halted."

"Bet you've got great sniper gear in there," Callen remarked. He didn't expect any explanations, but understood by now who fired the shots at Krapets beach.

"Who sent you?" Grace wanted to know.

"This is all Hetty's work," Callen huffed. "She mentioned that she took 'some precautions' Guess she meant you?"  
Maybe he should be offended by the fact she'd taken care of more people who were informed, but by now he didn't really mind.

"CIA," the woman said, confirming Callen's thoughts. She didn't explain any further, neither did her partner.

Next to him, Grace let out a grateful sigh. "NCIS," she introduced themselves. "But I figure you know that already. And this is Alec."

An awkward silence fell, until Callen asked "You, ehm, I suppose you have a first aid kit in here?"

Grace sounded worried while she cried out "Really!? What happened."

"Got hit. It's just a graze," he groaned. He gently touched the lowest part of his neck, close to his collarbone on the left side. In the darkness of the January night he didn't have to watch his hand to know it was still bleeding — it was warm and wet.

"Dammit," the woman cursed. "JayJay, you gotta do the bandaging. I'm driving."

"I can do it myself," Callen grumbled. "Keep driving, just hand the material."

A loud sigh came from Grace. "Don't be foolish Callen. Someone ought to look at it, and that same someone needs light to see what he or she is doing."

"I'll find a place to park the car in a lighted garage. Then my partner can take care of it."

The small voice of Alec sounded "My mother puts plasters when I am hurt."

"Then she can help me too," Callen managed to make his voice smile. Alec must be in shock after all the terror he faced today, yet the young boy sounded like he was okay.

"It'll have to wait," the man called JayJay warned them. He had his head turned to the right, checking the rear view mirror. With the sound of a single siren, one of the standard silver-blue police-cars ordered them to halt the car.

"Let me do the talking," the driver said. Then she pressed the button next to her and the side window opened, letting the cool January evening breeze enter the car.

One of the police officers peeked in. It was clear he mulled over the thought if this group of people might be suspects of the shooting elsewhere in town.  
"Knizha, [papers]" he ordered.

She bend towards the glovebox and took a small purse, then handed it all to the officer. In perfectly pronounced Bulgarian, Callen heard her explain how they were doing some sightseeing — she, her older brother and her sister and brother-in-law with their son. "We're on our way to our family-home in Shabla, Dobritsj."

The police officer checked the driver's license and the passports she handed him. Apparently he was satisfied with the papers and her answer, motioned that the window could be closed, handed the paperwork back and that they could continue their trip to Shabla.

"You think you can hold on for a short hour?" JayJay asked.

Callen hummed a confirmation.

"Not sticking your skin or clothes all against the car-upholstery then," the woman chuckled.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Shabla, Dobritsj || 9:00 PM**

The car decelerated close to the small pier and the lighthouse of Shabla, close to the place Grace and he had had their coffee earlier.

"You're still alive?"

He heard her question and nodded, a movement she wouldn't notice of course. His voice sounded hoarse when he responded "Sure."  
He should have avoided that nod. It felt as if the throbbing wound in his neck started bleeding again and he had to swallow away a wave of and nausea that came with the pain.

Callen realized that if Grace or these other companions would know him just as well as Sam did, he would be at the emergency first aid.  
He gritted his teeth when the car made a sharp turn and finally halted near a large, three storeys-high, brightly colored house, which surprised him.

"Stay inside until I say it's safe to come."

With these words she simply got out of the car, took something from the pockets of her jacket and went in. Only half a minute after that, she stood in the doorway and motioned them to come in.

Whereas the outside of the house appeared to be light and playfully built with something kids would call a turret, the entrance-hall was all dark, with wood on the floor and wood on the walls, with old tools on the wall.

"It'll take a while before the heating works properly. The kitchen area will warm up quickest since there's a small electric stove."  
The woman bit her underlip and continued "Maybe JayJay and uhm, Grace can take have a look at your wound?"

She walked through the hallway and knew the others would follow. Then she turned to Callen and let her gaze go over his face.  
"You really look like crap. I'll get some clean cloths and hot water, to clean your wound."

He didn't respond, just slumped on the first chair he saw.

"Nika, Grace needs some rest too, like Alec does," JayJay decided.

She sighed and said "Yeah. Sure." She quickly glanced at Callen, then turned and she smiled at the other woman and the boy, who was yawning. "There's a large room at the first floor. It's still cold up there, but I'll get you a second comforter. I hope you don't mind sleeping in a queen-sized bed with the boy?"

Grace shook her head. "It's okay. We're both tired. Any bed will do I suppose."

Within some minutes, the woman had provided them with everything they needed. "Since I've noticed you left in a hurry without your luggage, there's some spare clothes in the wardrobes in the room next door. Take whatever you need. I can do some laundry, just leave whatever you need to have washed outside the room."

She then turned and left them. When she returned to the now warmer family kitchen she had everything they'd need for a proper, though non-professional, wound treatment.

"Perhaps we should have called for an ambulance, Nika." JayJay sounded dull and wasn't too excited, Callen heard.

"That would be just as stupid as let them carry their weapons when a police-officer stops you or let them stay in the hotel without the back-up they asked you about." She sounded calm, a person who was confident of the decisions she made. When she continued, her voice was sharper.  
"Your hands to shaky for this task?"

JayJay heaved a deep sigh and addressed the woman. "Crap. This simply is not my cup of tea now, Nika. I think you can deal with Callen's wound."

"Callen?" she asked.

"His name is Callen. Hers is Grace Stevens." JayJay said. "That's what their boss told me".

Slightly offended Callen looked up at the other man and said "I'm in here, you know. I can talk."

"I know. If you want to talk, talk to her," he addressed Callen.

"Don't tell me you need a drink." Nika snapped.

"Don't you tell me I can't have one." The older man stood straight, his jaw clenched.

"Oh heck! Sure, go ahead. I'll manage."

Without any further explanation, JayJay opened a cupboard, took a glass and headed to one of the other rooms.

Callen's ocean blue eyes caught the frustration in hers after JayJay had left the room. He boxed the discussion between both CIA workers. It surprised him, yet he did not want to talk about it. Not now.  
"So, what do you know about first aid? You think you can fix this?" he said.

"There's nothing what hot water, a clean washcloth and towel can't clean. And after that you'll have to trust my abilities, mister Callen."

He smirked. Quietly he liked the concentrated look on her face. She looked exhausted, but in a way relaxed too.  
"So, this is the CIA's secret hideaway?" he asked.

She shook her head. "It belongs to my family. But ever since the death of my mother, my brother and I share it."

"He — JayJay is not your brother, is he?"

She let a giggle escape. "No way."  
She took a small tool from her jeans and much to his surprise, clicked it open and a dangerous knife appeared. It was only the shortest way of cutting off the discussion. She looked him in the eyes and said "Ready"?

The knife came close before he could answer and with some quick thrusts she cut his favorite jacket and the shirt he wore, then carefully pulled it away, avoiding the places where the cloth stuck to his skin.

"It would be best if you'd sit on the table, the light is better in here. Is that alright with you?" she asked. "I'm going to use a lot of water to soak off the cloth. Then I need to clean it first before I can see how to handle it."

He sensed that she felt uneasy when she glanced at earlier scars, of wounds which nearly killed him.  
On the other hand, he had to trust a woman whom he knew nothing about except her first name. And fact was, she was closer than he let most people come. Way within his personal space, yet it did not really disturb him. It made him feel slightly more vulnerable than usual.

She let her gaze go over his face and torso again and let a long breath escape after she put on the final piece of gauze on his wound. Then she noticed how close she stood to him. She lowered her eyes, wet her lips and stepped back a little.

"Finished. You may breath again" she said.

"That goes for you too," Callen quipped.

"I need to catch some sleep," she responded, feigning or hiding a yawn and meanwhile avoiding any more questions.  
"Let me show you to a bedroom you can use. It's my brother's, but he won't mind. He's hardly ever around. Take the clothes you need from the closet." She then paused the short sentenced introduction and caught his gaze with her violet blue eyes.

She looked tired indeed, he saw.

"I'll sleep where-ever I can, Nika," Callen said.

He followed her on the pinewood stairs, where she opened one of the five doors on the landing.

"This is the place. There's a bathroom behind that door," she motioned. "There are clean towels and clothes in here." She opened the large wardrobe doors, took a set of clean bedding which she quickly put on the bed.  
"Get your rest. I think we need to discuss what to do next and who to contact early tomorrow morning. In fact, I don't have much time left to work with you. JayJay should take the lead."

Callen shook his head. "Our case, our handler," he emphasized. "We have to make sure there's nothing we miss before we decide how to handle the operation from now on."

"Whatever you say," Nika sighed. She then turned and left the room.

* * *

 _A/N Struggled with words and the lack of action. Also real life can be a bitch. It gave me something to worry about, which isn't too good for inspiration, is it?_  
 _However, as ever, I hope you like what you read!_


	7. Eye to Eye, chapter 7

**Eye to Eye**

* * *

Disclaimer: the characters of NCIS Los Angeles belong to CBS. The only thing that's all mine is the idea for this storyline.

* * *

Eye to Eye, chapter 7

 _"If this ship is still around, who owns it and what is it doing in there?" Kensi asked._

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Shabla, Dobritsj || 7:30 AM**

After Callen opened his eyes, it took him some seconds only to remember where he was.

He'd slept like a baby. Unusual for someone who hardly slept, not even when he was at his own place where he felt safe.  
He checked his watch. Early in the morning, yet he was mostly up and running at this time of the day in Los Angeles. There were sounds, shades and scents which came with an unfamiliar place like this.  
Still, the house had a cozy feeling as a whole and even he felt at home. So very different from what Callen was used to — to be around with people he did not know, people he did not even know he could trust or not. Yet his gut feeling was that when Hetty contacted them, or had them contacted through their agency, he should be able to trust them as well. So far, his trust had not been betrayed.

He got up and gently stretched. After deciding he was alright, better than expected, he opened the curtains.

It was a grey and dreary morning. A contradiction with the sounds of bright laughter that came from downstairs, and the aroma of fresh coffee which reached his nose.

Callen went to the bathroom next door and did what he had to do. Then he stripped down and let his briefs slip on the floor while he put the taps of the shower open. He carefully checked the bandage on the wound. It had bled just a little, he noticed. He decided to pull the gauze off before taking a shower. The skin around the wound looked okay — no nasty color, indeed just a little fresh blood.  
The CIA agent had done a great job, though he noticed it actually needed to be stitched. Sure, he could re-bandage it himself, if he had the right material, and for now the first priority was keeping it clean.

The shower was warm but refreshing at the same time. He sighed as he turned off the taps, took a towel and went back to the bedroom.  
Nika had told him there might be something to wear in the wardrobes, and she was right. A clean boxershorts, his size. He slipped in his own pair of jeans and took a T-shirt and a warm, wadded, knitted sweater. Not one he'd ever own for himself, but the thick material and the high collar suited the climate. Besides, it would hide the bandage that had to be put on again.

He smiled as he heard the loud titter of Alec and the softer female voice immediately after.  
It was a good thing and a great sound. After all, the boy and his mother had gone through some awful and difficult events during the short period he was around and probably even before that. Yet the boy never whined.  
He let his thoughts go and remembered the time he had about the same age as Alec. Sure, kids were compliant and adapted to most situations. And Alec had his mom around and could rely on going back home, to his father. Different from what Callen himself had experienced, dragged away from his family. Not understanding why his mother wasn't coming around, nor where his sister had gone, he arrived in a country which was new to him, where the people talked about him, not to him. Strangers who made decisions they never shared. Strangers, who put him with other kids in an orphanage. Kids who used another language. Kids who would bully new-comers, no matter how young and sad they were.

He shook his head, letting the past rest, focusing on the here and now.

Much to his surprise he didn't find Grace with the boy, but Nika. Alec sat on the kitchen counter, watching how she baked small pancakes.

"Palachinkas."

She looked up when she heard Callen talk, tilted her head and asked "You know them?"

He hummed a confirmation and immediately felt uncomfortable. Surely he did not want to explain all he knew. "The hotel served them as well, I think."

She raised her brows. "Maybe. On the other hand, most Americans don't know them by name."  
Then she frowned when she noticed how he held a towel against his neck and put a shirt and sweater on a chair. "Need a hand?"

"It would be easier," he affirmed. "Did they teach you how to do stitches? Or should I ask your partner?"

"He's not my partner. Not really, I mean. And no, you'd better not ask him. He's, ehm, he's not in the best shape at the moment." She let a short sight escape, narrowed her eyes slightly. Then her deep blue eyes met his ocean blues. "It's complicated. We work for the same agency."  
She shook her head. It was clear she didn't want to talk about it with the boy around.

"Alec, why don't you show us how many pancakes you can eat? Meanwhile, I will help your uncle Callen. We don't want to see him bleed, do we? And Band-Aids won't help him, so it's no use waking your mother."

The boy giggled. "Uncle Callen. He's not my uncle!"

Nika turned on the television and Sponge Bob's hysterical laughter filled the room. Alec's attention was for food and fun, and they could talk freely now.

She washed her hands and he observed how she took the items she needed. Clearly she had done this before. The dark, short, wavy hair hid her face and the expression on it.  
Unlike the first time he had noticed her in the hotel, she now looked like the girl-next-door, dressed in a well-worn, tight jeans and a casual blue sweater with a wide neckline.  
When she looked up, she tilted her head again, glancing at Callen this time "Callen is your last name?"

"It's how people call me. It's like people call you Nika." It was enough for now. Maybe if she decided to share just a bit more, he would do the same.

Again, her gaze caught the expression on his face. This time she shook her head and she started talking.  
Her hands gestured while she said "JayJay — John Jacobs' his real name — is one of the best agents the CIA have in Europe. Since his wife left him last year and took their kids with him, he needs all the money he earns. He sends her monthly checks. Pays for their education in the US. The rest of his salary… well, he seems to use it for short trips, girls and alcohol. The alcohol... well, you know how it works."

She worked left-handed, Callen noticed. While talking, she had taken a cotton swab and now cleaned the surface of his skin, gently but capable. She stood close enough to feel the warmth of her body and smell her fresh perfume. It was no deliberately move, not like he'd met women who tried to intrude in his personal life. Close but in a way he did not mind, not with her, not right now.

In a softer voice she spoke "He should be sober when he wakes up. But his hands are less steady than he needs nowadays."

Callen gritted his teeth when she continued her work.

"I'm sorry this hurts you."

"It's nothing," he replied. Then he wanted to know "So if you aren't partners, who summoned you to come this way?"

She paused. Not because she didn't want to answer. He read it on her face — she needed to concentrate on what she was doing.

"JayJay called me. Your boss called ours, he called JayJay, JayJay called me. He was near, enjoying a short break. I came over from Sofia, from a surveillance-duty. That's why I can't stay, I should be heading back."  
She turned and took a pair of scissors. "There. That's done." She let some breath escape. "Besides, JayJay thought he might need my skills. Sniper," she grinned.

"Thanks for being around," Callen said. "And for this. It'll probably heal better this way."

Her eyes scanned his bare upper body. "You're a lucky guy, agent Callen. There were more than 'just grazes'."

He sent her a half smile, noticing how her violet blue eyes were softer now. "Believe me, I hardly recall the grazes and visits to the hospital. I stopped counting the scars."

She bit her underlip, facing him again instead of gazing over his upper body. "We all have enemies. Demons from the past who may show up in the future." She let a long sigh escape. "Now, how about a coffee?" she changed the subject.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS Office of Special Projects, Los Angeles || local time**

"So, apparently Grace thinks it might have something to do with gas drillings. Her partner, Steven Moore, suggested it. True, there is a semi-submersible off-shore to be seen at the very place Grace was. The ship should've been gone for ages, they say. But it is still up there."

Eric Beale stopped explaining, pressed the right buttons and looked up to the large screen where satellite pictures appeared. He stepped a bit closer and enlarged the image on screen.  
"This is the shore near Shabla, the pier, and in here, the ship Grace was talking about."

Eric faced the team members whom he summoned up only minutes ago by the first loud whistle of the new year and the first case they were handling —a case which needed their attention, although there were other assignments that might be dealt with as well.

"If this ship is still around, who owns it and what is it doing in there?" Kensi asked. She was relaxed, her face a bit more tanned than usual from the ski-holiday she and Deeks had enjoyed.

Eric nodded, pushed his glasses up in an automatism and said "Of course I've looked into that matter too. All European companies have left and took their expensive material away. This one used to belong to Exxon, but apparently they've sold it to a Ukrain firm."

Sam was grumpy ever since he found out that Callen and Hetty had agreed that Callen would travel to Europe. Grumpier even more that both of them had decided not to mention it to him. And nearly pissed knowing that deep down, Callen might even like to be on this lone mission.  
To Sam, it didn't matter that Grace Stevens was around. He felt he should have gone too, forgetting he and Michelle were having a wonderful holidays in Florida.  
He addressed Hetty instead of thinking through the matter Eric brought up. "So, one of our agents calls in that she's endangered and you sent Callen as a knight in shining armor abroad. What made you think Callen could help?"

"Miss Stevens is one of our own, Mr. Hanna. I'd call her in to save Mr. Callen as well, if that were the matter." Hetty chuckled softly, trying to hide her own worries for her agents in Europe, which were worsening after the phone-call Callen made. She continued "Besides, Mr. Callen could use some distraction as well. Maybe a bit of sun on a European beach."

"I don't see why it worries you, or anyone thinks it's suspicious, that US Marines enjoy their time off on the Gold Beaches in Bulgaria, while instead you think Callen deserves some sun on a beach with one of his co-workers. What's the difference, Hetty, tell me?" Deeks requested.

The operations manager steepled her hands and turned to the detective. "The difference is, Mr. Deeks, that until now, the Marines were killed after they returned to their fleet in Turkey. From what I've learned from my CIA's counterpart is that this time, there were attempts to kill our people on the spot. In Bulgaria."

"Dammit," Sam cursed. "Don't tell us the case has gone south Hetty."

"So far, Mr. Hanna, the latest reports I've received were through the CIA, and it read that one of our agents needed some treatment."

It had startled Hetty as a matter of fact, but neither Callen nor Grace had called in and reported anything out of the ordinary. All she could do right now was wait until one of them would contact her. And when that time would come, she needed to be able to share the latest intel with them as well.

"Miss Jones?" she inquired. "What did you find out about the Marines and Miss Stevens' co-worker so far?"

* * *

 _Thank you for reading. Your review is welcome, as ever!_  
Kni®benrots


	8. Eye to Eye, chapter 8

**Eye to Eye**

* * *

Thank you, JaniceS, Skippy, MotsieOfAtlantis, Wotumba1, LindaWigington, CountryGirl, 974lk, EvaMcBain2009, F4llon, ilse23 for reading and leaving your reviews

* * *

Eye to Eye, chapter 8

 _~ "Who are those people?" His voice had changed, colder now. ~_

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS Office of Special Projects, Los Angeles || local time**

The red-haired information analyst answered immediately, knowing the question would come.  
"I contacted the commander of the fleet in Turkey, Admiral Jeremiah Holmes and asked if he could let us know which time-off and trips NCIS agent Steven Moore had during the past year."

"And?" Sam encouraged her to continue.

"We're lucky Admiral Holmes could get a hold of this information. It appears there were at least six short trips Moore made, of which three very recently. And by the short conversation we had, I found out not only Marines were killed, the Admiral admitted too that for as far as he knows, there's also the mysterious disappearance of machine guns, missiles and lots of uniforms."

"And what happens when we combine all we know?" Deeks said. "I'd say someone, or more some-ones, smuggled a lot of materials to places with golden beaches and far away from here."

Nell nodded, a serious frown on her face now. "I came to the same conclusion. Listen, if that semi-submersible really belongs to the Ukrain by now, and one of our own decided to illegally transport those items to the Ukrain, what could happen next?" She sighed deeply. "Using US material it will look as if there are Americans fighting in Crimea against the Russians."

"And the Russians would take precautions. Another Cold War might start." Sam understood.

Kensi added to that "It would change today's history. Think of the joint action of our countries in Syria. Or what it would mean for Americans on foreign soil."

They all were silent for a minute. Then Deeks stated "Well, I wouldn't mind being able to be the one to avoid that change in history. So, Hetty, how about paying for some more airline tickets to Bulgaria?"

The petite operations manager hesitated only for some seconds, then she nodded "Miss Jones? Make that another three return-tickets to Varna, Bulgaria, will you please?"  
She then addressed the three people who were ready to move already. "Mr. Hanna, I'll put you in charge from now on. Work with Mr. Callen and Miss Stevens. As you already know, there's CIA back-up available, and I will contact Admiral Holmes once again, and see to it he will assist you by any means."

Sam nodded. He pressed the button of the sliding doors, ready to leave Ops, when Nell announced  
"There's a flight from the Military Air Force Base heading for Berlin, Germany in half an hour. I'll book you on that one. When you arrive in Berlin, further details will be on your cell-phones."

Hetty clapped her hands twice. "Hurry, boys and girls. Miss Blye, Mr. Hanna, detective Deeks, I suggest you grab your gear and go-bags, call home on your ways to the airport. Mr. Beale, if you'd be so kind to emit the right phones and other communications-material?"

Eric nodded and flip-flopped down the stairs, knowing there was no time to lose. "Just some extra sim-cards for international use, and a sat-phone," he explained to Kensi who was the first one ready to listen. "Then there's some sets of earwigs."  
He handed the small pouch to the female agent. "Use your car," Eric advised, "and leave it at the airpark. The way you drive it, there's time left before the plane takes off."

He chuckled when he glanced at the faces of Sam and Deeks. He loved it when the whole team was in full action.

From the safe distance of the balcony, Henrietta Lange watched the team leave. "Return tickets for everyone," she mumbled to herself. Those who would have noticed, would've seen how her hands were clasped around the railing, her knuckles near white.  
The case turned out to develop far from what she had expected, only three short days ago, and it frightened her more than she wanted to admit.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Bulgaria, Shabla, Dobritsj || 10:24 AM**

Grace had joined them earlier, her face pale and puffy and despite of his worries about her situation, she'd told Callen she was fine. She only took a cup of tea and some crackers, which she took with her to the larger living room, where her son was watching the television and played with his Nintendo.

They were still waiting for the oldest CIA-agent to downstairs, joining the others. Callen had finished his third cup of coffee and took one of the Russian magazines he found on a messy pile of newspapers and magazines.

"You read — Russian magazines?" Nika asked him, barely hiding her smile. "Reading or just studying the pictures in it?"

He smirked slightly and raised his brows "You're doubting my knowledge of foreign languages?"

She stopped unloading the dishwasher, brushed a dark curl away from her face and leaned back against the kitchen counter. "I'm not doubting anything. Something tells me you know more about this region than you're telling me."

There was a mix of seriousness, a puzzled look with something else on her face, something he hardly recognized. It was something that made her dark blue eyes sparkle slightly. Something he noticed since he let his eyes linger on her face a second too long.  
"Curiosity killed the cat."

A short blush went over her face. "Yeah. Well, it's too tempting nòt to ask, since you're hanging around in here. It's making me curious. It's interesting to see what you're doing. That's all. I was wondering why you simply prefer to stay here, instead of joining your co-worker. And it's just that —" she bit her underlip, not sure if she could mention what her thoughts were. "It's just that you don't seem to want to share your thoughts. I just tried to get you talking." She finished her sentence.

True, he preferred to stay in this cozy kitchen. It felt homey and he couldn't remember having felt like this about a place before. Yet Callen avoided the statement she made before. "Grace needs some time to be alone with her son. In fact, I think she needs to stay put."

Nika nodded. "But she's the one with the answers, so she's involved, whether she likes it or not. JayJay should stay in here, so the two of you can work your way into this case and make sure that whatever it is that is going on, stops. And that whoever is behind this, will be stopped."

"You're not going to be around?"

She shrugged. "Told you my case is in Sofia." She glanced at the large, dark wooden clock.

"You work alone in there?" Callen asked.

"Right now, I do." She closed the door of the dishwasher and said "There's some time left before I have to leave, so I might see the neighbors. Find out if they've noticed anything out of the ordinary, those past months."

So she probably hadn't been around this place for a while, Callen figured. Still, it looked as if this was the place which was her home. It looked real, lived in.  
He let his gaze go over this room itself, a large dining room with a large kitchen unit. The whole room had lots of woodwork in it again. The kitchen tops were pure pinewood, while the cupboards were painted off-white. Some copper pots and pans on a shelf. A large table which could host an equally large family. Off-white cushions on the chairs and off-white curtains, but then there were splashing colors when it came to the dark-red flowers in pink pots in the windowsill. A vase with yellow and orange flowers on the table.  
No carefully designed place like he'd seen so many times – a real home.

He hadn't joined Grace so far because he really felt she needed to be with her boy. On the other hand, he loved the cozy feeling the kitchen offered. He hadn't checked the rest of the house though. That was all there was to it, he figured.

"Let me join you," he offered. He sent her a boyish grin. "Two might hear more than one."

"As long as both people understand what's been said, there's no problem," she understood, listening between the lines. Meanwhile, her blue eyes locked on his.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Half an hour later, Callen pulled off his warm, knitted sweater again, like Nika had hung her sporty fleece jacket on a coat-stand in the entrance-hall.

She sighed deeply "Still not a sign of JayJay and time's ticking."

He understood the frustration he sensed in the way she spoke. "The shower's running though," he said. "How much time's left before you have to go?"

"About an hour and a half." She glanced at him, then said again "You think you and JayJay can work together?"

"Sure. Though I used to work alone, I now am used to have a back-up." Callen answered.

"So, you got used to be a team-player?"  
The response came from Grace, who heard the two of them talking. "Callen used to be a loner when he worked for The Company, but his NCIS boss re-shaped him as a team-leader. But I think, deep-down, he doesn't mind at all being on a sole mission like he is right now. Right, Callen?"

Before he could answer, the sound of a phone came from the room Grace had come from. All three of them looked up, then after a second, Nika realized it was the sat-phone her CIA colleague had left in the room. It took her only some large steps to reach it.  
"Reid," she introduced herself. It was clear that the person on the other side of the line wasn't surprised to hear her answering the phone. Nika nodded some times and hummed a confirmation. "I know. He's around. And yeah, we'll discuss that matter.— Soon. An hour, in fact.— Thank you. Sure. I'll tell him."  
She disconnected with a deep sigh. "Our handler. Obviously, my informant in Sofia called him, wanting to know where I was. And he wants to know why JayJay needed my assistance." Again, she glanced at the clock.

"Listen, Nika, you and I could start sharing what we know with Grace. JayJay will be with us in only some minutes, I suppose." Callen suggested. "And then when it's time for you to go, you can leave."

Her gaze rested on his ocean blue eyes a little longer than he expected. "You're right," she said. "Where to start?"

Callen stood in the doorpost of the living room, his back leaning to the wall and his arms crossed over his chest and for the eye relaxed, although he also knew that experts would call his stance defensive.  
He lifted his chin a little when he said to Grace "We — agent Reid and I, went talking to the neighbors. Two of them are fishermen and they've told us there are people going on and off this platform ship. Small and swift vessels, traveling up North. They've also seen and heard helicopters."

Grace and Nika both had found a place on one of the dark-red couches which were put opposite of each other. Alec sat on the floor, his shoulders posted against the side of the couch and his petite feet in the direction of the wood burner which warmed the room nicely.

"There's no need to call me agent Reid, agent Callen." It sounded teasingly and in a way she had all the right to do so.  
Callen had simply wanted to hear how her name sounded and sure, he was willing to explain why there wasn't another name to use when it came to his. But the moment he was about to, JayJay entered the room, carrying a cup of steaming hot coffee.

His eyes red-rimmed, he hardly looked any better than Grace. "Shouldn't you have left already?" He addressed Nika with a snub. "What if Palmer finds out?"

Callen observed the female agent. She obviously was used to comments like this and responded with a deep sigh. "Palmer already knows. You have to contact him."

"Oh. Wonderful. Wasn't there some way to prevent that?"

She ignored his words and said "We were just discussing what to do next. I'll be leaving soon. The three of you have to see if you can close this case. Like we concluded that it's odd that so many smaller vessels come and go. Dimitrov, the old fisherman of two houses from here, combined it with the flight of helicopters and the coming and going of large trucks. He's been too scared to go out at night to check on them."

Grace had been quiet until now. "So far for gas drilling." In a smaller voice, she added "You think that Steven is really behind it all?"

Callen had been thinking about it, kept reminding Hetty's remark. He nodded "Unfortunately, I do, Grace. Even director Vance has his suspicions."

"They followed you, somehow. How do you think they did it?" JayJay asked.

"There's a none-traceable laptop, disposable cell-phone. And I've had my bag checked several times, there's nothing in or on it. Can't check it by the way, I don't have it with me. Still in Varna," Grace responded. "So I really wouldn't know."

"What if they followed you, Callen? Tracked your phone-calls, knew you'd be coming in here?" Nika asked.

He'd been thinking about that as well. Could it be that there were some of the Comescus left? That they'd been paying airport officials to give a call whenever he'd be entering Europe? Paranoia hit whenever he didn't expect it, still, it sounded too far from reality. Callen shook his head. "Don't think so."

He started to pace the cozy living-room, feeling restless since there wasn't anything new or sensible coming up. His steps ended near one of the large windows. "We'd better call the LA-office. See what they've come up with."  
Then, in a shock, his pensive gaze shifted from the views over the garden to the set of photo-frames which were displayed on the wall. It couldn't be… He stepped just a little closer, then silently cursed. They were too familiar.

"Who are those people?" His voice had changed, colder now.

It was silent for a beat. "My family," Nika then answered. She got up, eager to explain, and pointed at the three females on the black-and-white picture. "This is my grandmother with her daughters, Veronica and Alexa. Veronica was my mom."

"You're a Comescu," Callen hissed. His voice was hardly audible.

Her violet eyes rested on his face which was so angry now, not understanding his words. "Well, technically I am —"

Callen didn't hear her words, didn't want to hear.  
He took the picture and threw it against the wall with all the force he felt in his body. Pieces of glass were shattered everywhere, startling the others.

Alec started to cry and Grace got up in a hurry to comfort the boy.

JayJay cursed aloud twice, then shouted "What the hell are you doing?"

Callen's gaze went over Nika's face which was pale right now. He grabbed her arm and kept it in a firm hold. His eyes were cold now, ice cold, and his voice fit with that, snarling "Tell me... What did you plan, Nika? Who did you warn? What do you know about me?"

She just shook her head and whispered "I don't know what you're talking about."

He pressed her against the wall and repeated, shouting now "WHAT DID YOU TELL THEM?"

With her right arm, she hit him close to the wound she had recently helped to bandage. "Let me go, you… bastard!" Tears welled up in her eyes.

Callen groaned. The sharp pain of her well-placed hit made him to lose his grip.

Only seconds later, the front door fell shut and she was gone.

* * *

 _Thank you for reading. Would love to hear your thoughts, as ever._


	9. Eye to Eye, chapter 9

Eye to Eye

 _~ "Did you know? And if so,_ _why were you withholding this information for me?"_

 **Eye to Eye, chapter 9**

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

"What the fuck is this all about?" JayJay inquired. "You're playing mister nice-guy, flirting around, and all of a sudden you're shouting and cursing and getting aggressive. What's going on between the two of you?"

"Nothing I need to share, so just mind your own business," Callen growled.

He hated this - getting played. In fact, he hated his own lack of judgement right now. Hated to know that it had been so easy to be fooled by a sweet face only.  
"We need to get going," he addressed Grace.

Her blue-greyish eyes scanned his face and she felt sad for her co-worker. His whole life, he had been hunted by this family who wanted him dead. Too many times, his life had been endangered. And now he – they, since she was with him - appeared to be in the belly of the beast. Of course she felt his need to leave.  
"So… you think she's behind this all?" Grace asked.

He huffed, his eyes still as cold as ice. "Well, she's a Comescu, right? She just told us herself, so figure it out."

"What the hell is a Comescu?" JayJay wanted to know.

"To much to share, mister. Does the word 'blood-feud' mean anything to you? That's what's this all about. So, like I said, we need to get away." Callen explained. In fact he didn't mind what the other agent's thoughts were right now.

He grabbed the sat-phone which was still on the table and pressed the number he knew by heart. While he shove away the glass of the picture-frame with his foot, he waited till the phone was being answered.

"How the hell does a Comescu gets to be a CIA agent?" Callen blurted the words out the minute Henrietta Lange had introduced herself.

She heaved a deep sigh. "Why, Mr. Callen, are you asking and who are you talking about?"

Her calm response irritated him even more. How many times had he found out she knew things she failed to share with him? 'To protect him'. Heck, he was old enough to make the right decisions. His anger bubbled up again and he had to refrain to start shouting.

"Did you know? And if so, why were you withholding this information for me?"

Before Hetty's answer came through the phone, someone pounded the front-door repeatedly and loud.  
Callen disconnected before he heard what she had to say.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS Office of Special Projects, Los Angeles || local time**

She sat behind her large, dark wooden, antique desk for a while, her hands folded in her lap. The short call that the agent in charge just made and disconnected immediately after, worried her more than she could ever let anyone know.

Sure, she could call back. But what would it be she would find out? He'd sounded so angry. A Comescu around? Who and where? She shook her head. How come she hadn't seen that coming? Her worries had been about Grace Stevens and her co-worker, and the fact that this case was far too close to Romania. Indeed, far too close to the crime family the Comescus were.

Slowly, she got up. Ready to take the steps up the stairs, steps that were heavier than she'd ever experienced before. The burdensome responsibilities of her profession weighed heavier by the day.

She stood behind the two junior workers, the analysts who were always working behind the scenes of the danger in the field. This time, she did not know where to start. Henrietta Lange scraped her throat and inhaled deeply, so her words would come out just as confident as the young couple was used to.

"Miss Jones, what will be the estimated time of arrival of our team in Bulgaria?"

Nell swiveled her chair, nearly shocked by the ever so sneaky way their tiny boss managed to enter their office. She then watched the world-clock and said "They should land in Varna in about two hours from now, local time."

Hetty nodded, absently, and said "Send them a message and tell them to hurry even more. I want them in Shabla as soon as possible."  
She hesitated a minute and added "Are you sure we don't have ears and eyes somewhere in that tiny village?"

Eric responded "We've checked, Hetty. There's nothing at the moment. From April till the end of September, the local government activates a web-cam in the lighthouse, obviously for tourist purposes."

"See if you can hack into that system, Mr. Beale, and get it running. Please inform me if you can."  
Hetty addressed the female intelligence analyst again. "Miss Jones, I need you to find out about all the agents the CIA has stationed in Europe. To be more specific, in Eastern Europe."

Nell nodded, was about to turn around, but decided to ask "Anything in particular I have to be looking for, Hetty?"

Their operations manager shook her head. "Anything which stands out, Miss Jones, anything."  
She was sure Nell would come up with the information she needed.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Bulgaria, Shabla, Dobritsj || 11.15 AM**

"You've got any weapons in here, Jacobs?" Callen asked the other CIA-agent. Adrenaline took over the anger he'd felt only a minute ago. He'd rather go down fighting than arguing, that is, when he had equal chances as his opponents.

JayJay nodded, alert as well and in a far better shape than Callen had expected. "Nika always keeps some in here." He got on his knees and grabbled in the larger basket with wood, then got up and handed Callen a Taurus.

Gratefully, he took it, from the other man's hand. Callen quickly checked if it was loaded. A positive one for that.  
Then he motioned to Grace. "Get into the kitchen and take Alec with you. See if you can find a place hide in there. Stay until I'll tell you it's safe. And if you have any doubts, take the backdoor and get the hell away from this place."  
He tucked the gun away in the back of his waistband, ready to take it when he needed it, and he took a deep breath. Then he glanced through the colored windows in the front-door.  
Two men stood in there, men he met before. Dimitrov and one of his neighbors, and Callen felt assured enough to open the door.

"Kakvo iskash?" [What do you want?] he asked.

The oldest of the men replied in the same language "When you visited us, Nika asked to inform her if any strangers would visit the beach."

Callen remembered, and right now he wondered what she had planned, what it was she had in mind right now. He nodded and made his voice sound not annoyed when he asked "And?"

"Two large vans and a SUV," the youngest of both men said, and in nearly the same breath he added in anticipation "Is Nika around?"

He shook his head. Did he want to explain? Nope. Did she fool these guys as well with her easy way of discussing? Did these men really know the woman?  
All of a sudden, he wondered what he knew about Nika. Nothing at all, nothing but the fact she was directly related to Alexa Comescu. To him, that was enough.

He smiled politely and said "Blagodarya" [Thank you].

"Will you tell Nika?"

"We will," JayJay replied, suddenly joining him, glaring at Callen and then smiling politely at the others, in a way to help Callen out of the situation which wasn't a real situation.

Both locals understood the none-spoken words as well.

JayJay heaved a deep sigh once the men had left. "Two large vans and a SUV. Tell me, what does it mean?"

He shrugged. "It's only a matter of time before we find out."  
It took only some large steps to reach the kitchen area. He let some breath escape through his nose — had it been less than an hour ago that he'd admitted to himself he felt quite at home in this place? A Comescu-house — no way…

"Grace? I need the two of you out of this place."  
Callen realized his words might sound coldly. It was, however, the only way he could keep focused, only himself to worry about. She was like a sister, one he didn't meet that often but whom he cared for more than he'd realized before he took the long flight to Europe. He wouldn't forgive himself if anything happened to her or to her son.  
"Take her car and leave. Don't tell me where you're going, but do call Hetty and let her know. It's better and safer that way," he reasoned.

She looked lost in the family kitchen. Her right hand was loosely wrapped around the tiny shoulders of her young son. Her pale face was blank now and she seemed to have lost all energy. With her left hand subconsciously on her tummy, there was a look of defeat on her face, combined with the apprehension he was right. With a son, a young boy, and a child on its way, she wasn't the agent who could assist him like she would've wanted.  
"Callen…"  
There was so much she wanted to tell him, yet Grace understood he would not need any of her pity about the situation right now. The confidence he'd shown earlier, the way he had shared information with her and Nika, was gone completely. Although he still sounded self-assured, she knew better. She sensed how deep down, he must feel betrayed, hurt and vulnerable at the same time, and, like him, she felt like they were lured to a place they were an easy prey for who-ever were after him, after them.

"There're weapons in her car, remember? Automatics."

Callen was surprised she remembered. "You might need a gun. Just in case," he reminded her.

"True, but a handgun should be okay. Just think of the army of men two vans can hold". She licked her dry lips, scared for the man she admired. "You take the automatics."  
She swallowed away her fears. "I'm sorry Callen. Sorry I've gotten you into this mess."  
She paused a second, her greyish eyes locked onto his ocean blue's which were calmer now.  
"I still don't get it. It was my mess which made me call Hetty, my mess which got you in here." She shook her head. "And what if Sam would've been sent over, instead of you, Callen? I don't get it," she repeated.

Then she took one of the warmest coats she found on one of the coat-racks, hugged the boy into his own dark blue coat, put his shoes on and finally, put on her own boots.  
"Will you walk me out?" her voice was warm. He nodded. Took the items he needed, handed her the fake passport that JayJay had arranged earlier.

"Go, Grace, go and stay safe. See to it the two of you travel back to Ankara. Call Hetty, call your husband, let them know you're on your way."  
He managed to smile confidently her way, and she hugged him dearly, wordlessly letting him know how much she cared about him. He let her, his only way of communicating for some slow seconds.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Bulgaria, Varna || 12:20**

The plane from Berlin descended earlier than expected and only minutes ago, Sam had checked his phone for any new messages. He'd read and muttered "I'm hating this already."

"Hating what?" Kensi wanted to know.

The large former SEAL faced the others. "We're running out of time. It appears Hetty had two phone calls. One from G, asking her about a Comescu. Which is bad news. The other one from Grace, telling Hetty she and G split up just before a group of about 12 persons might be attacking the place G and a CIA agent are staying in."

"Wait wait. Why did they split up?" Deeks asked, the expression on his face more serious than they were used to.

Sam shrugged. "The message doesn't say it."

"We need to call in the very moment we're landing." Kensi chewed the inside of her cheeks. "The moment Grace mentioned this to Hetty is in the past. This means we don't know if—"

"Don't go there, Kensi," Sam grumbled.  
He didn't want to think of things which might have happened to his partner. Not to G, who was the resourceful one of both of them. G, who would keep fighting until… Well, he'd still be in there.

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A/N Love to read all your reviews so far! Very curious what you think of this chapter. Feel free to let me know.

Kni®benrots


	10. Eye to Eye, chapter 10

Eye to Eye

 _~ "Any reason to believe I don't? Old school, Langley." ~_

 **Eye to Eye, chapter 10**

* * *

Disclaimer: All the characters [except the OC] are known from the original NCIS Los Angeles series: they were made up by Shane Brennan and belong to CBS.

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Bulgaria, Shabla, Dobritsj || 11.45 AM**

Seconds before Grace had put the car in reverse, Alec started yelling "My 'tendo, my 'tendo!"  
It took a while before Callen understood — the boy was upset because he didn't carry his game-computer.  
He hurried inside, took the item from the couch where Alec had left it, and was about to hurry back outside. Until his thoughts went over the discussion about 'how did they know where to find us'…  
No way.  
This might be how, and he needed to find out. But most of all, Callen wanted Grace and Alec safely out of the way.

He came back outside, emptyhanded.  
"You've got to go now Grace, there's no time to lose. I cannot find it. See if you can buy the boy a new one," he urged her.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Varna airport, Bulgaria || 11:50 AM**

Finally, after passing customs, there was time to call the LA office.  
"Listen, Mr. Hanna. I can't guarantee your safety. With what miss Stevens told me only minutes ago, the only thing I know for sure is that there was a small army heading toward the place they were staying, and she was sent off by Mr. Callen. All I know is the location you should be heading to."  
She sighed deeply, not liking the message she was giving to the part of the team she was talking to.  
"And for your information, Mr. Callen is not answering his phone, nor is anyone else."  
Despite the fact she was not adding anything Sam did not already know, there were so many questions he had.

 _-"G told you there are Comescus involved. What did he tell you, exactly?"_  
Sam felt he had the right to know. After all the whole team, including Hetty, knew what it meant if any of the Romanian crime family would find out about Callen being in Europe, only miles from the place the Comescus lived. It was a matter of one short call or even worse, only the unheard use of a thumb to send a short message, and they'd be around.

"All he demanded was if I knew. To which, Mr. Hanna, the answer was no." She paused for a beat, then spoke softly "Take care, Mr. Hanna. And bring him back, will you please?"

She hardly ever pleaded.  
Sam realized it after he had disconnected with a more or less ignorant 'okay'. Hetty was just as nervous about what was going on as he was himself…

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Meanwhile || Shabla, Dobritsj || 12:00 AM**

Now only the both men were around in the Bulgarian house.  
Callen trusted that Grace was clever enough to travel southward as soon as possible, back to Varna, a place where she would call Hetty ánd book a flight back to Turkey. He planned to visit her, once this all was over.  
He refused to think in 'if's', just like he refused to think that the Comescu-family, that huge family, would finally succeed in hunting and wiping out all the Callens.  
Not him.  
Not now.  
He wiggled his jaw several times, a habit which even drew the attention of JayJay.

"You're THAT mad?" the other man asked.

A short glare and sharp nod came as Callen's response. Despite the fact the agent had been ordered to be around 'just in case', he did not mean to be best-friends-forever, and sharing his feelings with someone he hardly knew did not suit Callen. Besides, Hetty had asked for Jacobs, not for... for her.

"We have to be prepared and be prepared quickly. If that what Dimitrov said is right, we're going to face at least ten men, maybe more, willing to kill us."

Callen checked the rifles he got from the car where they'd been carefully tucked away, out of sight for any innocent viewers.  
"You know how to use those?" he asked.

JayJay tilted his head, looking slightly arrogant that way. "Any reason to believe I don't? Old school, Langley."

A smirk came his way. "Been there, did that," Callen remarked. Immediately serious, he started to plan now.

"I'll see if I can find petrol or gasoline. You can empty some bottles and tear apart a towel or something in the kitchen. Some Molotov cocktails might help." He sent another quick smirk and added "Old school, Langley, buddy."

He made a quick round around the house, trusting JayJay to do the same inside. Looking for the right material and checking the right position was his kind of work.  
Alert, his adrenaline was on high level now. No-one near the house so far. Callen noticed the jerry can next to the neighbors' house and grabbed it without asking. If war broke loose, they might understand.

"Jacobs?!" he shouted. "Got some bottles already?"

He cursed aloud when he found the other man. Sure, he'd found what they needed. Too bad he took some of it in his empty coffee-cup.  
"You're still sober enough to hold a gun, aim and shoot?" he asked coldly.

"Sober enough."

He had to trust on those words. "Then let's get to work."

Ten minutes later, they were ready, in position and the waiting started.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Shabla, Dobritsj || 15 minutes later**

He waited patiently from up on the small shed which was attached to the neighbor's house. From there, Callen had eyes on the front road as well as over the backyard of the Comescu property.  
They came, silently moving closer and he watched them come near — a well-trained army. Men dressed in uniformed black boots, trousers and jackets.  
Callen shook his head. Those guys weren't Comescus.

He decided to wait for whatever action was necessary, just until they were close enough to study their faces, their movements and the way they divided tasks without speaking aloud.  
The moment four of them were moving in half a circle heading to the backyard, he heard them whispering. The words weren't Romanian, nor Bulgarian or American. Callen knew enough about the languages around. This was a Russian dialect, to be more specific, Eastern-Ukrainian.  
But no matter their background, these men came with one target — to take the lives of the people in this specific house.

Callen smoothly got up. The most difficult part had come now, he had two small but lethal DIY-bombs he'd needed to throw nearly simultaneously to the men. It meant he would need to give up his hiding place, and it meant he'd put a lot of strain on the wound that still bothered him.

Both bottles smashed on impact and the fireballs, which were followed by the spreading flames, surprised the men. They forgot to fire their guns, while Callen had bought some seconds to get inside the house from where he had the automatic gun put on one of the bedroom-chairs, which he put upside down and used as a standard. Firing the gun, he knew there were now six men out of action.

All he counted on was that JayJay managed to keep the other four that he'd noticed away and no longer threatening them.

He saw another of the prepared bottles being thrown from the ground floor, immediately followed by some shots sounded which came from the back door in the pantry. Indeed, John Jacobs hadn't forgotten how to use a machine gun. Callen prayed it was good enough to stop the other men from shooting.

Then, as if lightning struck, the shooting stopped, both from outside of the house as from the inside. He needed and wanted to know why, so he had to go downstairs, and decided that doing so was best from how he started — through the large bedroom-window and the small ridge onto the attachment.

There were five men he could see, more than he expected, but he would definitely not be able to eliminate from where he stood. However, he did hear the words that were shared, when one of the men switched off his phone after he'd made a call.

"Joeri says they've caught the woman."

The words hit him like a ton of bricks. It's when Callen felt he'd lost this battle anyway.

'Grace'…

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 _Thank you for reading. Your reviews are very welcome, as ever!_  
Kni®benrots


	11. Eye to Eye, chapter 11

Eye to Eye

 _~Her gut feel was very different from her calmly spoken words. Some things didn't add up. ~_

 **Eye to Eye, chapter 11**

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Shabla, Dobritsj || 15 minutes later**

The dark-dressed men regrouped and left the premises sooner than Callen was able to climb down the low building and there was no use to shoot them while in pursuit. On the contrary, he was the one who was seriously outnumbered, and he needed to stay out of sight and take care not to be shot himself. He passed three of the men he shot earlier. They probably were too badly wounded to feel up to marching back to their cars.  
Disarming them was an easy job, and some of their handguns looked as if he could use them. He checked one of them. The magazine was nearly fully filled and he locked it before he tucked it behind the belt of his jeans.

His first priority was to check if JayJay was alright. Secondly he desperately needed a way to find where this militia group might have taken Grace to. JayJay might be the person who could tell him more about that.

Much to his fright, Callen noticed how small flames licked behind the opened door to the boot room.

"Jacobs?!" he shouted.

There was an immediate response from where the other man had defended himself from the intruders. "In here. I'm okay. You?"

He hummed back something positive and added "The place is on fire, damnit. Are there any distinguishers in here?"

The voice of the other man sounded nearly indifferent. "Leave it be, Callen. Before we found any at all, the whole place will be a blaze. Or perhaps emergency services will walk around this place, asking questions you don't want to answer. We don't need any international incidents, right? Now, get your personal stuff out if this place and get the hell away from here."

"But..."

JayJay frowned at the nearly indecisive reaction of the sturdy fellow agent.  
"Don't tell me you feel sorry. You should've minded your words earlier," the CIA man said. He sent Callen a wry smile and repeated "So, get your stuff and let's leave this place as soon as possible."  
He took a glass from the kitchen table, had his gaze go over the light, brown liquid in it and swirled it sometimes before he took a long swallow.

"Those men outside mentioned they caught the woman. Damn, Jacobs, you and I have to save her before they'll — well, I don't know what. You need to know that a NCIS agent from Turkey probably went rogue. We'll need to find out where they snatched her and where they went. Where do we go?" Callen demanded. Then, he took Alec's game-computer. He stared at it for a second and in one fluid moment he smashed it on the kitchen counter. He knew what he was looking for and he was more or less expecting it — the small button-like item rolled away from the PCB.  
He cursed aloud. It was Grace they'd had been following in the end.

He looked around. Nothing personal to him, nothing left to take. He sighed deeply and bit his underlip. Then, Callen kneeled and took the picture which lay on the floor.

He heard the other man's footsteps stopping right behind him "Anything you need to share?" JayJay said.

Although Callen finally admitted to himself he might have made a wrong mistake by keeping things too close to his vest, so far, nothing had added up. The moment he expected some of the Comescu family around to finally take care of the life-long blood feud, a group of trained Russians showed up. Still, he did not feel like sharing his thoughts with the other man.  
He shook his head. "I'll be alright."

"Great. Because I contacted an informant and he is going to get me out of here."

"I don't understand," Callen said. "Shouldn't you contact Nika? And how about helping me to rescue Grace, and who knows, her son as well?"

JayJay tilted his head, then shook it very slowly. "Nika is capable, but stubborn. I've known her for some time now, and she's probably half-way Sofia by now. So, no way I'm going to call her back. And with what I just noticed, there's no way my agency is going to back me when I keep fighting this battle we can't win."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS Office of Special Projects, Los Angeles || local time**

Nell rubbed her tired eyes, then glanced to the screen her partner had in front of him. "Did you manage to do, ehm, what she demanded?" she asked, keeping her voice soft.

Eric shook his head and moaned "Not yet. I bet she'll be around in a few minutes and then I have to disappoint her. Just imagine…" He leaned back in his chair, swiveled it slightly and stretched shamessly.  
"You?" he wanted to know.

She shrugged and moved closer to the screen in front of her, meanwhile tugging a strand of hair behind her ear. "Guess I have." Her hazel eyes had widened by now and she now spoke faster, louder and excited. "You'd better whistle Hetty up here."

Eric shook his head. "I need a caffeine-shot. Paste the intel into your tablet and get on your feet to share what it is you need to share downstairs."  
He was up on his feet, pressed the button to open the sliding doors, passed through them and managed to run down the stairs only half a second before Nell was in there.

"You should see this, guys!" Nell spoke. She then pressed some buttons on her tablet and the screen near Hetty's desk shared the intel she had in front of her.

"Anything you want to share, Miss Jones?" the smallest smile on Hetty's face was hardly to be notices and disappeared just as quickly as it came.

Nell breathed in deeply and started to show ID's and pictures on the screen. "Dean Krieger, stationed in Budapest, Hungary. Born in Alabama, January 1962. Married, wife and son moved to Budapest as well. Krieger worked for Homeland Security before he made the switch to the CIA. So far, he has been around there for the past three years. During the past year, he got assistance from the agency - Mary-Lynn Adams. Iowa, 1987. Not married. Fresh from Langley."  
She nodded briefly and continued. "John Jacobs, Washington, 1958. Currently stationed in Plovdiv, because of its important economic, transport and cultural situation. Divorced and until now, three formal, disciplinary sanctions because of his alcohol abuse."  
She ignored the short hiss of disapproval that came from her partner.  
"And there's Nikola Reid. Born in Razgrad, Bulgaria, 1982. Stationed in Sofia. Just like Mary-Lynn Adams, she's not married."

Hetty nodded. "Well then, Miss Jones. My CIA counterpart mentioned he was going to have Jacobs, JayJay for friends and co-workers, around the place Miss Stevens called from. What I need you to do is to be more specific as to why you appear to be so excited."  
Her gut feel was very different from her calmly spoken words. Some things didn't add up.

"It's because of what I found out about the parents." Nell explained. "To be more specific, about the parents of Nikola Reid. Her father was an American professor, teaching English at the university in Sofia. He fell in love with a student who was desperate to leave her home country and emigrate to the US, even though it meant she would have to break with her family. She wasn't a Bulgarian girl however. Her name was Veronica Comescu."

There it was.  
Hetty tried to hide her feelings from those young people who were the ones who always were around, noticed what went on with the field agents, often before they could share. The analysts who were sharp in their own jobs, but who were vulnerable, powerless, when it came to the safety of the people in the field.

And she was tired, beyond tired, and worried for the man she had always considered to be her son. Had it been her gut feel that she had had her doubts to send him, only him, to Europe? And if, why had she failed to share her doubts?  
Her mind was in a whirl. He was never the one who would have refused to go. She knew it. It wouldn't have worked.

For some long seconds, she was silent. Then she slowly let her breath escape through her nose and when she finally controlled her feelings she'd never wanted to show, she asked  
"Mr. Beale, is there any chance to reach Mr. Callen at the last number he called from?"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Minutes later || between Varna and Shabla, Bulgaria**

The grey Mitsubishi Outlander had a manual transmission and parts on the route from Varna to Shabla were winding like the Highway One near Big Sur. It caused some low swearing from Sam Hanna, who needed to adjust his way of managing the car.  
Though he tried to drive as fast as he could, he was tired from the long flight. Besides, the traffic was busy and slow even though the tourist season was far away.

Then, a few miles before they reached the outskirts of the town, nearly at the junction between the main road and the coastal route, he heard the sirens moments before he noticed a fire truck which rushed by the cars behind them. Sam had to make way for it as well.

"Son of a bitch," he hissed in a low voice when, after a red Renault swerved in front of his.

"Still sharp, Hanna?" Deeks asked. Part of his usual relaxed tease survived the long journey, although he hated military flights.

Kensi, in the backseat, sighed deeply. "We're only about six miles from where Grace told us to go. We should meet with Callen somewhere around ten minutes from now, I guess."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Previously || Fishermen's beach, Shabla**

She found out a long time ago that that working alone worked best for her. Alone was safer — not anyone to depend on, to depend on no-one. Long undercover operations, every now and then with a partner. It had been a great way to live her life, so far.

Right now, the tears in her eyes clouded her view. She was angry with herself. Angry, because until now, she had always been sharp and keen to make the best of her job, to show that no matter what, she would serve her home-country.

The tears were also because the pain she suffered from, making it impossible to keep her usual composure. It was no use anymore trying to fight this small army she was facing. Something inside of her hand cracked when, after she'd used her knife with success on one of the men, the same knife was kicked out of her hand. And soon after that, a punch in kidneys made her gasp and fall down on her knees, a position she was in right now.

Then, the pain stopped after her head seemed to explode when someone decided she needed to be out of action instantly.

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 _Thank you for reading and reviewing!_

Kni®benrots


	12. Eye to Eye, chapter 12

Eye to Eye

 _~ he knew enough. Someone had dragged a non-struggling body to the waterfront. ~_

Eye to Eye, chapter 12

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS Office of Special Projects, Los Angeles || local time**

"Yeah baby."

The words came soft but enthusiastic.

Nell pursed her lips and frowned when she glanced at her partner and asked "What you got, Eric?"

"Footage." Eric was quiet for some seconds, watching the screen where date, hour and temperature were displayed in bright yellow in the left upper corner. He was wordlessly counting. "I've got it up and running, the webcam at the firehouse. Still switching every half minute, eight different positions, but at least we've got eyes on —" He paused, then mumbled "No shit."

"Wait, wait. Is that…?" Nell didn't have to finish her sentence. She knew. "We should inform Hetty, right?"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Shabla, Dobritsj || minutes later**

Callen had rather hard-handedly convinced one of the wounded men that it might be better to inform him where his fellows had taken the woman. It had come as no surprise — the semi-submersible was a perfect hide-away since it was a place too far away to find out which hidden business was going on, from this town and its coast.

JayJay had kept word. He'd pointed out some highlights when it came to travelling out of the place, either by car or by boat. "Only some miles up North, you might find an excursion boat that might be for hire."

It reminded Callen of the amount of cash he had put in his jacket. That same jacket which was destroyed the other night. Nothing to pay with meant nothing to hire. A quick take-away might do the trick though, he thought.  
Right before they heard the sirens of a firetruck coming nearer, the two of them split up. Because in the end, JayJay was positively sure — he was definitely not willing to stay and mess with this many opponents.

"My informant should be here any minute. I'd stand out in this place and if there's police around, they'd probably pick me out of any crowd. You and me, pall, we'd have too much to explain."  
A plain blue BMW stopped near the place they were standing, a beautiful blonde behind the wheel.

"It's been a pleasure working with you," JayJay smiled. Then he got in, and was gone before Callen could say goodbye.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Shabla || 15 minutes later**

Kensi shook her head as she noticed the emergency cars which came from behind them and the red-and-blue lights only a minute in front of them. "Got this feeling that whatever it is that is going on in there has got to do something with Callen."

"Of course it does, Kenselina. He attracts trouble like… well, like sweet stuff attracts wasps and like I attract you."

She opened her mouth, but was wordless because of this last remark.

"Whatever it is, I'm not going to stop the car where we should." Sam's dark and calm voice interrupted. No matter how calm he sounded, he did agree with Kensi's words — this had something to do with Callen's presence. He said: "There should be a small fisherman's beach only some minutes from here. Let's see if we can behave as some ordinary tourists who have no interest in what's going on in this neighborhood."

"But we have." This time, Deeks' words were very serious. His baby-blue eyes stared straight forward at the blazing fire, then his gaze went to the intel in his phone again. "It's the exact place Grace told us she and Callen stayed last night. Which means we'll find Callen in there."  
The three of them had their own thoughts when they notices how firemen desperately tried to put out a fire that was way beyond being extinguished.

Sam shook his head. "Unless he decided to get himself wounded again, or get arrested, I'm pretty sure G found another hide-away."  
He followed the traffic regulations of a uniformed officer and then, another four streets further, he turned right and parked the car a little north from the second pier of the quarter of the town.

Kensi took a pair of binoculars from her go-bag, while Deeks handled a photo camera. He took photographs of the place which was nearly demolished, making sure he made some snaps of officers who escorted two gurneys to the ambulances.  
"Looks like some kind of army-guys," he concluded.

"Which makes me wonder who they are, what they were looking for and what they found in or near this place." Kensi was silent for a while.

Sam looked around, then said "They probably weren't looking at anything valuable."

"All of this place looks like no-one maintained it. Look at that pier in the south. Demolished. Those houses we saw, south. Paint-less." Kensi shook her head. "If this were Los Angeles, mortgages would be sky-high. In here? Definitely former East-block. Some old money, summer houses perhaps."

"Which makes me think… It would be a lovely place for the two of us, Fern. A do-over, flip a house, maybe using it ourselves." Deeks mentioned.

"We're not talking making money. We're at this place to look for a rogue NCIS agent who probably is around right now." Sam interrupted. "Let's see if we can find that one co-worker with some answers".

He got out of the car, slightly narrowing his eyes. "Let's head that way," he motioned to the small beach near to the pier Kensi had mentioned. "You see those vans in there?"

She nodded. "Identical vans. Dark grey, like the SUV which is parked behind it." She huffed shortly. "They fit those guys we saw that were moved in the ambulances."

Sam nodded. "What d'you think, 'bout sixteen, twenty persons max to be transported in?"

It was Deeks who answered. "Depends with how many they were supposed to have left with. Which, dear boys and girls, makes me wonder where all of them have gone to?"

The short ping on their phones told them a message had come in.

"Great. Eric noticed the place where Callen and Grace stayed, is on fire. At least they have eyes on this place. Maybe we should wave hello?" Deeks then said.

Kensi read the message as well and wondered "He can help us. The cam he uses is in the firehouse, and sure thing he cannot replay what happened earlier than those 15 minutes ago."  
She texted back "No trace of Callen?" and looked up to both her co-workers. "Well, we all know that Callen knows how to avoid any camera's, but he probably hasn't noticed this one works, so if he's somewhere to be seen, we ought to know, right?"

"Maybe if you weren't all staring at your telephone screens, you would notice that he is to be seen. Keep watching your surroundings. Just saying…"  
The soft spoken voice came from behind them, where the team leader sat hunkered down behind the shades of one of the blue fisher-boats.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Previously || Fishermen's beach, Shabla**

Callen didn't understand. He stood at the beach, looking at three things that were far from what he had expected.

The evidence he'd found only an hour ago was clear enough — a small GPS detector. He found it, hidden in the game computer of Grace's son and it meant that she could be followed from a distance. It also meant that, who-ever these men were, they were after Grace. It never surprised him. After all, it was what Grace and Hetty had suspected and it was proved by the attempts to get rid of Grace. On the beach and later in the hotel and here, in Shabla.

But then things changed when Callen found out Nika was a member of the Comescu clan.

The three things he observed didn't add up to his last suspicion.

Right in front of him was a dead man, uniformed like the men he fought only minutes ago. The man lay on the cold and wet sand, face up, his left knee slightly bent. Blood had run from a wound in his chest. The wound had been caused by the odd, red knife which Callen recognized from the night before, when it had come his way, being used on his clothes and when it was in the hands of the CIA agent he had accused of… well, of what? It didn't really matter. Not anymore.

Only some feet away, he saw what he didn't want to see.

One of the brown boots which Nika had worn when she walked next to him, coming back to the house after the short talks with her neighbors.

Callen's trained eyes saw how the moist sand kept no secrets and he knew enough. Someone had dragged a non-struggling body to the waterfront. From there, there were no traces.

Not Grace. They'd taken Nika.

Seeing this, knowing this, he knew that he foolishly had pushed aside too many 'what-if's'.

After all, Nika had been the one to keep Grace safe on the beach in Krapets, when she had the opportunity to shoot them both. If she had wanted to.  
Nika had been the one who arrived just in time to get them away after the shooting in the hotel in Varna.  
She had been the one to find them a safe place, all of them, in that house in Shabla. It had been her who took care of his wound, instead of using the knife on him, she used it on his clothes.

And what had he done?

He'd felt at home at her place. Secretly had enjoyed feeling her warmth when she stood close to him. He trusted her abilities. Was glad she was at the right time and the right place. Followed her when she went to talk with the locals.  
And then, just then when he felt he could trust her with more inside information, he discovered how his demons from the past showed up.  
And he had accused her of about everything.  
Made her leave the house, HER house, and pushed her straight into the arms of the enemy. His enemy, and Grace's.  
Not hers.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

"G?"

Sam's voice had gotten louder on the second time he asked and it startled him. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

He sniffed. "Sure." Then he shrugged and asked "How did you get here?"

Deeks chuckled softly "Hetty's magic. Did you realize it she now may be able to see you?" He motioned toward the lighthouse.

Callen did a quick calculation. He shook his head. "She can't. I wished it were true that Eric might be able to see what happened in here."

Kensi had been quiet for a moment, letting Callen's words sink and observing what he must have observed as well, then slowly let her gaze go back to the dead man nearby. "Who killed him?"

He slowly breathed out and let his tongue wet his lips just a short second. "A CIA agent called Nika Reid."

"Where did she go?" Deeks looked around.

Sam shook his head, urging the other man not to continue. Instead, he asked "Who are those guys?"

"Fake Russians."

"Great. Just what we thought. Well, if that's the case, Hetty was right and we should stop them from whatever it is they're doing." Deeks' suggestion sounded so very simple that it even made Callen chuckle.

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 _Thanks for reading!_


	13. Eye to Eye, chapter 13

Eye to Eye

 _~ she repeated "Callen. I was working with an NCIS agent called Callen. ~_

 **Eye to Eye, chapter 13**

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A/N Thank you so much for leaving your reviews, Linda, Wotumba, Ilse, Janice, Skippy, 974lk, Guest and Vicki

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Her head felt like it just had exploded and she noticed how her body shivered, unstoppable. Slowly, her brain started to work again.

Her hands went over the surface which felt so cold and, once she combined it with the sounds around her, Nika realized without too much effort where she was. Something hurt deep within her left hand and shoulder and she remembered how the men had easily grabbed her from her position on the beach. Sure, she fought them, but she hadn't been really ready for it.  
Like a probie.

Her clothes were wet and sandy and she silently moaned. How many times had her superiors told her to never let emotion cloud ones reactions or judgement. Well, she had.  
She had been angry by the way this agent Callen had reacted when he'd found the picture her mother had been so fond of. 'Happier times' her mom had called it, yet she never really explained what happened to the happiness that once had been.  
Yes, Nika had been angry and distracted by her own feelings and so she'd stormed out of the house, hér place, feeling berated like a child. Because of what?

Her mind went over what had happened. The sudden attack on the beach by a small unit which operated like a SEAL squad had taken her by surprise. She remembered an enthusiastic shout by one of them. Obviously, they must have thought it was she they were after.  
Which meant that the moment they'd found out they had the wrong person, her time would be up.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Shabla || Bulgaria**

"So, Grace has arrived in Varna and is safe. She let Hetty know immediately after she arrived," Kensi told Callen.

He didn't feel like explaining about how this Steven Moore probably was the one who managed to find out where Grace had been. This coworker of Grace must've been the sugar-uncle who personally handed the boy a portable game-computer. Keeping it in here might have saved Grace and Alec.  
A grateful smile had appeared on his face when Callen responded "Good. They should be okay by now, since this is where the action is."

Deeks shove away some of the unwilling hair from his eyes. Despite his relaxed pose, he was all alert and asked "They?!"

"She has the cutest son who was traveling with her. Quite a task to keep him out of the loop. Besides of the boy traveling with her, there's another baby soon to arrive."

Kensi's dark eyes widened. "You mean she's pregnant and still working?"

He nodded. "Married, part-time job, kids. Director Vance probably knows. I have my doubts Hetty knows."

"Talking about Hetty, we need to call in," Sam mentioned.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS Office of Special Projects, Los Angeles || local time**

It had taken her some breathless seconds to process the information Nell had come up with. Too many times, the Comescu family had been close enough to threaten the team leader's life. Just as many times special agent G. Callen had managed to escape, alive, from these threats.  
And now he found out the CIA had an agent…

A short cough made her snap out of her thoughts. "Hetty?" Eric's questioning eyes went over her face again.

"What was it you were trying to let me know, Mr. Beale?"

He started to rattle. "That place Callen and Grace were, is on fire. The team has arrived and found Callen. They found a dead man as well. And the CIA agents appear to have left. Sam's on the phone waiting."

In a swift movement, she took the phone. "Mr. Hanna?"  
She listened carefully at what the senior agent had to say. "I see. So Mr. Callen is sure there are five men out of action."

She slowly shook her head as she heard Sam explaining what the next moves might be. "So, you are suggesting that just to gather proof you would need to go in that place. And what made you think you can?"

After the next response of Sam, she paused for a while. Then, she pursed her lips and stated "You cannot, Mr. Hanna, and I repeat: You Can Not do that. If what you heard from Mr. Callen is right, it would be a suicide mission the way you describe it. Let me put it carefully – there will be no unauthorized action from your side whatsoever. Meanwhile, I will inform Admiral Jeremiah Holmes and demand he will send in an extraction team as your back-up."

Again, she listened to what Sam came up with, calmly let him try to convince her, but once he had, she was clear in her orders.  
"No way. Tell Mr. Callen that all which is required is to get to Steven Moore and make sure he is going to be arrested and get him out of there. With a little luck, we can destroy all evidence you find in there and, well, perhaps with the slightest bit of diplomatic chit-chat, we might convince the Russians that we had nothing to do with this case."  
She paused a second and made another decision.  
"We might even convince them that who-ever is behind this matter, decided to blow up all evidence."

She hung up and shook her head again.  
Then she pressed another button on her phone and waited until the alert response came from Nell.  
"Miss Jones? See what you can dig up about CIA's agent Reid and brief me as soon as you have anything. Anything." she repeated. "There's no need to tell you I need it as soon as possible. Oh, and Miss Jones? Be sure not to share this with anyone else."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Shabla || Bulgaria**

Sam reported what he heard from the Operations Manager. Callen listened, just like the others did, but he didn't comment on the remarks of the other agents.

Kensi and Deeks were discussing their knowledge of Russian, or rather the lack of it. Then it was about how fast a team from Turkey could arrive.

It was quiet for a while until Callen realized they all might be waiting for his comments. He squinted his eyes and asked "How far you figure this Jack-up platform-ship is off coast Sam?"

The large man stood next to his partner, his hands folded in front of his chest. He didn't like the question since it hinted in a direction he knew Callen was thinking.  
"You heard the woman, G. This assignment was only about getting Grace out if this, safely, and to end the smuggling activities of Steven Moore," Sam cautioned.

"That's not what I asked."  
His clear blue eyes rested on his partner's face, carefully checking the emotions which went with Sam's words.

Instead, Sam's brown eyes met his and, as ever, the former Navy SEAL scanned what he saw. Dark rings and hardly noticeable etches around his eyes. "How bad?" he wanted to know.

"Just a graze. Well stitched, well bandaged. Slept well too." He sighed, yet refused to discuss it right now. Maybe later.

"There's an inflatable rescue boat next to the lighthouse." His jaw was set, making it clear he was making plans which were beyond discussable.

"Not going there, partner," Sam stated.

He growled a curse. "This guy Moore will have means to leave that platform-ship the moment he suspects we're after him. He must have some partners in crime who can warn him. The minute Hetty makes the call to our men in Turkey, Moore is out of this place."

"So? What's the plan?" Deeks asked.

"I don't want to hear it." Sam repeated.  
He'd never leave his partner go in there alone, still Sam felt he should warn Callen once again.  
"There's no way we can enter that place just like that. These guys were heavily armed, you just told us. Besides, you know how Hetty can be when you defy her orders. She'll keep you grounded when she finds out. Don't tell me I didn't warn you."

The trademark smirk appeared on Callen's face when he said "I never suggested we should go in there 'just like that'. We've got at least one uniform – one size fits all." He indicated at the dead man on the beach.

"Perhaps we can find more of those?" Kensi figured as she tried to peer through the blinded rear windows of the van. She smiled as she took a set of lock-pickers from the pocket of her jacket. "Special fiber. A present from Hetty."

While Sam and Callen stayed on the look-out, Kensi quickly unlocked the van's backdoor and it didn't take her and Deeks long to go through its contents.

"There's only one more of those uniforms." Disappointment sounded from Deeks' voice. Then, more optimistically, he said "Looks like my size and yours, Callen."

Kensi said "You know that your size is my size as well."

Callen shook his head. "I need the two of you in here, to keep overwatch."

"You're kiddin'!" Deeks exclaimed. "Don't tell me you're gonna go in there together, alone?"

The agent in charge tilted his head a bit, pursed his lips slightly and nodded towards his partner. "What do you think, Sam?"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Black Sea || half an hour later**

He'd checked the weapons they found in the same dark van where the uniform had been in. After a thorough cleaning session he unloaded and reloaded the first Heckler&Koch MP5. Immediately after he repeated the action with the second one.

So far, Sam's gaze was straight forward to the place they were heading to. He hadn't spoken, yet every now and then he glanced at his partner who appeared to be more closed off than usually. The stubble on his face was darker than usual, or perhaps his partner was paler than usual. Then Sam finally said with a deep sigh "Is it worth it, G?"

He expected the question. "We're too far to back down now, big guy."

"Again, not what I asked. Look, right here and now I might think Hetty was right and I've gone on a suicide mission with my best friend. And from all you have not told me, I think there is more than you have cared to inform me of so far. So?"

Callen stared at the waves between the shore and the grey rubber of the boat they were in. "I don't think the life of a sailor would suit me."  
He paused a moment, knowing he owed Sam an explanation. "This Steven Moore was willing to kill his co-worker. Not only Grace, but her son and unborn child as well. He doesn't deserve to escape. He's a traitor, not only to Grace, but to his country and to our agency as well."

He rubbed his hands over his eyes several times and continued, his voice softer now. "And I think — No, I know for sure that I made a mistake, Sam. A misjudgment. One which probably cost someone's life. All because of…"  
Callen didn't finish his sentence.

"Ghosts from the past. I think Hetty told me something like that," Sam understood.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Black Sea || 6 miles from the Shabla shore**

The nausea spread through her body even worse as she remembered how she watched how her elbow had finally snapped after it had been bent backwards till that point. She had screamed out in pain. At this moment still she had trouble to keep her breathing even. There was pain, there was fear and there was this giant, red-haired man who towered over her, his booted size 12 foot now on her right hand. He demanded things she didn't want to tell him.

She breathed out "Callen."  
Her voice sounded thin, but she managed to not show the hesitation she felt. It was safest to give his name. After all, it was just a name.  
JayJay would be in this country all the time, she wasn't going to endanger him. And from what she understood, these people were after Grace. She was far too vulnerable with her pregnancy and the young boy.

Nika bit her lip, feeling the sheen of cold sweat covering her forehead and back. She knew this man wouldn't stop torturing her like he did. Maybe he'd back off now that she gave him just this name.  
Then she swallowed, slightly lifted her head and repeated "Callen. I was working with an NCIS agent called Callen."

"Damnit!" The large man cursed aloud. He turned to the other men and whispered something to a companion which she couldn't hear. She tried not to show the insecurity which had taken the upper hand by now.  
Maybe they'd not back off. Maybe this was it.

A good looking man stepped forward. He shove away a wisp of his dark blond hair from his bright green eyes and let his gaze go over her face. Then he sent her a broad smile and said "Nikola Andreyava Comescu Reid, you and I need to do a bit of talking…"

* * *

 _Thank you for reading. Your reviews are very welcome, as ever!_  
Kni®benrots


	14. Eye to Eye, chapter 14

Eye to Eye

 _"_ _What's our plan B? Because seriously, G, I don't see how we get to Moore."_

 **Eye to Eye, chapter 14**

* * *

Disclaimer: the characters of NCIS Los Angeles belong to CBS. The only thing that's all mine is the idea for this storyline.

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

"I figure you're talking about this CIA agent Hetty mentioned."  
Sam looked straight forward, knowing he'd wait until Callen would respond. This time, he did not have to wait very long.

Callen huffed softly and said in a flat voice "A CIA-agent with a Comescu as an ancestor. I didn't really take that one as easy as I should have."  
Softer now, he added "And all I know is what I've seen. She is the one they took. And once they find out it's not Grace, well…" Callen did not need to finish his sentence.

"Does it mean — you feel you want to avenge this agent?" Sam was curious to know. After all, Callen was talking about the Comescu-clan in a way he did not expect.

He shrugged. "Maybe."  
Was there a way he could explain to his friend what he hardly understood himself? That there had been unexpected feelings for Nika, that he had liked being around with her?  
He kept his eyes avoided from his partner, knowing Sam had mastered the ability to read his mind during the past few years.  
"Well, I sure do feel guilty," he confessed. "After I discovered she's one of them, I was rather harsh. Made her mad enough to leave the place, her place, and go to the beach, where Moore's men snatched her."

"Guilt doesn't mean it should change your job, does it? Remember we're in here to eliminate Moore, and do only that," Sam muttered. Then he added "We really need to discuss the plan as well, G, instead of just butting in."

"Get to Moore. By all means? What did Hetty tell us?" Callen switched into the agent-mode, as ever able to shove away and box all that might be personal.

A broad smile appeared on Sam's face and with that two deep dimples. "She prefers a so-called 'smooth arrest.' But if necessary, lethal action is authorized."

He nodded. "Ehm, and Sam, about a plan? I heard those guys talk about Joeri. So I figured that I could be Grisha and you and I could go in and ask for Joeri."

A glare came his way. Sam realized Callen could go in for any Russian, but it would be different for him. "And I would be?"

"Samuel will do fine. If Moore is involved, there will be more Americans. So, there have to be some men who won't be Russian or Ukrain. After all, Grace told me some marines of the fleet stationed in Ankara must have had something to do with this, since they were spotted in or around Shabla and Varna before they returned and were killed back in Turkey. Maybe one of them started to talk. Anyway, Grace was supposed to investigate in here. Which means it's okay if you're Samuel. As long as you keep quiet, stand behind me and don't try to speak Russian." Callen chuckled softly.

"What's our plan B? Because seriously, G, I don't see how we get to Moore."

Callen shook his head. "There's no plan B, I guess. The only thing I can think of is to contact the juniors who are supposed to enjoy their beach day. It's crucial we stick to the same story."

"Go on and humor me," Sam grumbled. "Just as long as you keep in mind we're going to enter that place in only some minutes from now. What's the story?"

"Joeri was the one who mentioned that 'they had the woman'. So if you were an American, and Moore is as well, you'd probably know the woman. Right?"  
He frowned slightly and continued. "So I ask for Joeri, and ask him where to find Moore and the woman, since you're supposed to be there as well."  
He paused a short second. "And well, despite they are dressed all the same, I don't think all of them are aware what's going on exactly. So, dressed like them, carrying the same weapons, acting as we belong with this gang, we'll probably be considered as one of them. In case someone hesitates — " he shrugged, "well, I'd say we'll shoot our way out."

"Creative," Sam commented.

"Listen, you don't have to do this," Callen stated, his clear blues fixed on the face of his partner.

A short huff came his way. "But it's what we do, right? So, give me one good reason why you should."

He tilted his head and chuckled once again in a way only he could. "How about because Hetty told us to arrest Moore?"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS Office of Special Projects, Los Angeles || local time**

She concentrated on the intel on her screen and wondered if she needed to get in touch with the CIA contacts right now. Then Nell remembered Hetty had practically ordered her not to share the information she found, with anyone else but the woman who ran the Office of Special Projects, Hetty herself.  
She jotted down some information and started a new search, deciding she might just as well use the CIA's personnel files.

Another half hour later, she shook her head, stretched her back and decided to go and see the Operations Manager.

"What' you're doing?" Eric asked as she got up.

She shrugged, pulling the dark red cardigan a little lower over her flowery dress. She knew it was impossible to hide anything for her partner, and her hazel eyes flashed to the sliding doors and back to Eric. "Some detecting. You know…" Nell rolled her eyes. "Something I should not share."

"Yet, Miss Jones, you feel the urge to share it anyway."

She spun on her heels and realized she should've known this would be happening. "Well…" she started, nervously biting the inside of her cheeks.

"Yes, dear?" A faint smile came from the older woman's eyes, more than it sounded in her voice.

"Well, there's nothing I found," Nell finally stated. "I mean, I have, but there's nothing out of the ordinary."

There was a short expression of approval on Hetty's face so Nell continued. She let her thumb go quickly over the screen of her tablet and looked up to the main screen.  
"This is all we have on Nikola Reid."

An ID card for the CIA appeared on the screen, and on it a picture of a woman with, dark, wavy hair which just reached her shoulders, and the way she faced the camera, with the violet of the eyes and nearly shy smile, reminded Hetty of a young Elizabeth Taylor.

Then Nell quickly summarized what she had "Nikola Reid, 33 years old, nearly turning 34. Despite her age, she's one of the more experienced agents in Europe. She started with a great alias since she worked as a freelance journalist. The CIA was happy to enlist her because of her being bilingual Bulgarian and English and her ability to easily switch to other Slavic languages. Her father was Andrew Reid, a professor, and her mother, as we already know, a sister of Alexa Comescu, called Veronica. About this Veronica: she left home at a young age.  
During the application period, Nikola, Nika in short, let her superiors know how her mother, Veronica, found out about the dark side of the Comescu family and decided she did not want to have anything to do with that."

She glanced at the others. "So, like I said, there's basically nothing."

Hetty smiled back at the younger woman. "Nothing, except for Mr. Callen's obvious doubts. I must say, usually his initial thoughts and feelings turn out to be right. For once, I am grateful that it's different this time. Thank you, Miss Jones. Now if you'd be so kind to send this information to the cellphones of your colleagues abroad?"

On that, she turned and left ops. Although the information Nell had come up with, sounded solid, there was a nagging feeling something still wasn't right. She heaved a deep sigh, shove behind the antique desk and stared ahead, not knowing what really bothered her.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Black Sea || 6 miles from the Shabla shore**

As Sam finally managed to navigate the small and grey rescue boat parallel to the large Jack-up, he turned off the engine and entered a hook to the much higher floating building. Both men were alert, expecting a none-friendly reception.

Sam glanced at his partner and asked in a low voice "How many?"

"I estimate there were at least 12," Callen shrugged, his gaze never leaving the deck and the structures which towered high over that same deck. He breathed in deep and smiled as assuring as he could, then climbed up the ladder, knowing Sam would follow.

"Stoi!"  
A dark-eyed man, wearing the same uniform as both Sam and Callen, wielded his automatic gun forward. He did hesitate, since he noticed those men obviously belonged to his own group yet he failed to recognize them.

As in a smooth response, Callen stopped and sent the other man a broad smile. "You should welcome us, priyatel," he addressed the other man in fluent Russian as well. "We managed to get away, unseen." He looked around in a curious and relaxed way. "Has Joeri come back already?"

Deep down, Sam was amazed by the way his partner quickly transformed himself into one of the platoon of Russians who might be aboard. Silently, he admired the way Callen always managed to blend into the surroundings and crowd he met. Right now, Sam didn't really understand the language, but the way Callen spoke was like he'd seen everywhere on the planet. No respect needed, since they were ranked alike.  
Then Sam realized he himself did not have to behave differently in the end. After all, those guys were acting like a group of SEALs and he naturally would fit in, like Callen had mentioned.

The other man nodded a confirmation and motioned Callen and Sam to follow him. Without being too obvious, Callen scanned every single part of this large sea-craft.  
There were corroded doors, derelict containers which once went for living quarters and compartments one deck below, and he tried to memorize the different ways to make a quick escape if necessary. They met less men than he'd expected and the place looked desolated and unlivable in fact.

The guy who accompanied them halted, sent them an unreadable glare and repeated the only word he'd spoken so far. "Stoi." With that, he gestured with his hand that they were not supposed to follow him.  
He knocked on a door which opened immediately, then he entered and closed the door behind him in the same second.

"What do you think about this?" Sam asked in an undertone.

"He definitely isn't too chatty," Callen responded.

"Not what I meant," Sam murmured. "What if this guy rushes out with an army of 15 behind him?"

"No way. You haven't noticed there aren't any lifeboats or spare vessels around? We're too late, big guy." It was exactly what Callen feared and expected at the same time.

Some slow minutes passed and they didn't know what to expect. Then, the door opened and three men appeared, one of which was the none-communicative guard.  
The other two apparently rated the presence of Callen and Sam, until the youngest of them started talking in Russian. "Da? You asked for me?"

"We came in here for the woman," Callen replied in Russian as well. "You are the one who told Moore where she is, right?"

The man sent a simple nod as a confirmation. "Я возьму тебя, чтобы Мур," [I will take you to Moore].  
The same guard walked behind them, while the man called Joeri went ahead. Sam glanced sideward at Callen, wondering what the plan was his partner had from now on.

Joeri halted in front of one of the big pylons. Next to it stood a set of plain sea-container. In a former life they probably functioned as a storage room. Not anymore, since with one hollow knock on the rusty door, a rusty-haired man opened up.

He was older than Callen had expected. With his tall posture he matched Sam, yet he appeared less strong.

"Da?" he asked, addressing Joeri and the silent man more than Callen and Sam.

The other Russian started to explain how Callen had asked for the woman. It seemed to last ages before Moore finally had decided how to phrase an answer — ages in which Callen held his breath. Of course, Moore might have gotten rid of Nika once he had seen it wasn't Grace but another woman the men had taken with them.

All Sam could think of was that it was quiet aboard, far too quiet perhaps. Those three men were all they ran into, which might mean that all evidence was gone as well and their effort might be in vain.

"The woman?" Moore finally repeated.

Callen simply nodded and responded with a Russian confirmation, deystvitel'no'..

Moore narrowed his eyes and let his gaze go over both men, probably not too sure if they belonged to this group or not. Then he gestured to the other two men to leave the room.  
He paused a while before he started to talk. "You're here for the woman?"

"We do, Moore. And we know she's not who you wanted," Sam said. "Let's say that we know who you are, what you did and NCIS' director Vance wants to have a word with you as well."

"You are federal agents?" Moore shook his head, his face grim and obviously not really believing those men were.

Sam nodded. "We're NCIS as well, Moore," he confirmed. "And to be more specific, director Vance ordered us to take care of your extradition. So you'd better cooperate."

"Or else?"

"There's a team from Ankara on its way. They won't treat you as nice as we will," Callen smirked.

Moore let his gaze go over Callen's face and smiled back rather politely, although the smile never reached his eyes, on the contrary. "I gather you must be agent Callen? Wow. Glad to finally get to know you. So you're the one who managed to get my Gracie out of there. She told you about my activities?"

Callen shook his head. "Simple deduction."  
He pushed the man forward. "Face to the wall, Moore." He kept his gun pointed at the other man, meanwhile motioning at Sam to tie the wrists of the NCIS agent.

"You're coming with us, Moore

Much to their surprise, Moore willingly walked with them to the deck and this time, they did not meet any of the other men.

"Remember, you have no prove of anything I may or may not have done. Maybe I was forced into working with some other men?" Moore smiled to both men in a sly way. "And what if some of persons in here would like to have a word with agent G. Callen?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Callen gruffed.

Moore tilted his head and huffed something like a smile. "That's for you to find out about."

Callen wet his now dry lips and glanced at his partner.

In a response, Sam shook his head.

He had to know. "Who?"

"All I know is that at least the woman asked for you."

Callen came to a halt, not knowing for sure what to do now. Again, he wet his lips and bit them. Then he decided "Sam, tie his feet as well and put him in the vessel. See if you can eliminate the engine and unhook it from this barge."

"But G…" Sam shook his head, disagreeing.

"The team from Ankara will soon be here. They can pick him up," Callen reasoned. "Hetty already will have contacted them. Once the cavalry will arrive, we can join them and get out of this place."

"I don't think it's wise—"

Callen interrupted the words he did not want his friend and partner to speak. "Again, you don't have to do this Sam. If you don't agree, join Moore."

A glare came his way. "This is what you do, right? So, this is what I do." Yet, Sam shook his head and heaved a deep sigh. "I'll be with you in a minute, buddy. Don't do anything stupid, will-ya?"

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Thanks for reading!


	15. Eye to Eye, chapter 15

**Eye to Eye**

 _~ she really did not know what the Comescus had done to his family ~_

Eye to Eye, chapter 15

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Was it minutes ago or hours ago since she was left in this place?  
By now, Nika had lost track of time. The physical pain had worn her out. Looking at her left arm made her literally sick; despite of the sleeve which covered her arms she could still see how a part of the bone stuck out in a way that should never be. That was the visible result of the torture of Steven Moore earlier. The raging pain she felt on the inside of her body worried her more. The internal injuries she knew of meant no good. Something was damaged and the thought of it made her wish she would simply pass out. However, her body resisted to give in so far.

Maybe in a subconscious way she fought it, fought it because she simply had wanted to tell Callen that she really did not know what the Comescus had done to his family.  
Comescus. Not she. Not to him.  
She never knew about this.  
Until this day.

Until she met this man, her cousin, who explained.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Previously**

"Nikola Andrey Comescu Reid, you and I need to do a bit of talking…"

The man entered after Moore had beaten her up, tortured her. This man came to talk to her, only because he heard the name 'Callen', and all the others had left when he addressed her immediately after.  
It sounded so polite, yet Nika could easily detect the cruelty beneath the soothing voice. She decided to at least try to show no fear, although she knew her eyes might betray her.

For a short moment, the man smiled at her and a surreal thought bubbled up. He was pretty and if he were on TV in some sort of series which she would have watched with friends, maybe she'd fallen for him.

It changed when he continued a monologue. "You don't know me, do you? Nor did you recognize your other cousin. Tsssh... Dear Nikola, we should have introduced ourselves more properly. However, I was rather distracted when after this period of — how shall I call it, persistence? — of my partner, you decided to give away this name of another American agent."

He leaned back against the wall, crossing his ankles in a relaxed way that showed he had the upper-hand.

"This agent's name is G. Callen. The Callens have been our enemy ever since WorldWar II, and we nearly managed to destroy every single member of this family. Except for this one. He fought back, so far. He's the one who is responsible for the death of your aunt, the sister of your mother, Alexa."

His green eyes bored into her pain-filled violets as if he tried to read her mind. "You see, Nikola, my name is Vladimir, and I am your cousin, since Alexa was my mother. You and I, Nikola, we are blood-related. We both are Comescus, and we're alike. How does that make you feel?"

She tried to keep her face blank and swallowed twice before she managed to say in a voice which was far too weak to fit her "You are wrong. You… you — I could never be like you, you are on the wrong side of the law."

Gone was the politeness on his face. It made way for a cold, violent anger and before she knew it, his flat hand slapped her in the face. All she could do was let out a scream. Not really because of the force of it, but because of the shifty way in which he acted.

Vladimir started shouting now. "And you worked with that son of a bitch. His grandfather was responsible for your great-grandfather's assassination, and of his two brothers. The killing went on, and now hé is responsible for the killing of your aunt!"

Suddenly she realized he showed the same uncontrollable anger she'd seen when Callen had recognized her mother's family in the picture in her place… Could it be that what this man said was true? For a second she doubted Callen's real motives. What if he had just been looking for a way to get to her?  
But then again, no. Callen had gotten angry the moment when he found the picture of her mum, aunt and grandma. Not earlier.  
This man, her cousin, was manipulative in a way she hadn't faced before in her life. "Why?" she croaked. "Why would he do that? There's more to the story and my mother told me".

"What DID she tell you? It's true. The Callen family started this!" Vladimir yelled, his hands now fisted.

Nika realized that if she wanted to win time, wanted to survive, she'd better let this guy talk. Her mother hád told her that she already felt the need to escape her own relatives because of their criminal activities. The Comescu ancestors had been the ones whose felonious undertaking made it easy to perform whatever activities in their own country, something Nika's mother did not want to be a part of.

"This agent deserves to die because of what he and his family did. We need to get revenge on our ancestors' killers. It was a mistake my mother and her mother made, to let this Callen live when he was a kid. So we will make up for that mistake. We. You and I."  
Another sly smile appeared on his face. He then carried on "The three of us, in fact. Because there's another Comescu around, dear Nikola. Perhaps not the brightest one of us, but Marin sure will do what he can."

Whether it was wise or not Nika did not know, but she did bring forward something that bothered her for a minute or so. "We have to find him."

He turned away from her, but only after he sent her another sardonic smile. "Don't worry, Nikola. Marin knows Callen is on his way to find you."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Black Sea || Jack-Up, 6 miles from the Shabla shore**

No matter Steven Moore's posture, Sam estimated that he was stronger himself. So if he had to force the man into the only small vessel – the one he and Callen had taken previously – Sam knew he would be on the safe side.  
However, Moore still cooperated in a way Sam did not really expect. Could it be what Moore had said, that he wasn't the brain behind this all?

Sam sighed inaudibly. Sure, he and Callen needed to find out about Moore. What did Callen know from what Grace had told him? Would Grace be willing to assist and find out more, would there be unexpected proof that not Moore, but someone else was behind this?

"Get in," he simply ordered.

Without looking back, Moore did as he was asked. Then Sam did what Callen had planned—let the rescue boat drift away from the large oil rig.  
That was when he shook his head, blaming himself for not checking his cell phone first for any new messages.

The small activity icon on his phone showed that the reception at this location was poor. It took longer than he hoped to finally read that there were two new incoming messages.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS Office of Special Projects, Los Angeles || local time**

Hetty was aware that Nell would inform the team members in Europe and let them know that Nikola Reid was really someone who could be trusted. Despite the blood that ran through her veins, she kept far from her maternal family.  
Hetty slowly breathed out through her nose and let her elbows lean on the antique desk, meanwhile sipping from a hot, Kusmi Prince Vladimir tea. For a brief moment, she simply enjoyed the scent of bergamot and vanilla.  
Henrietta Lange then started to mentally list the things she knew which had happened in Bulgaria and, once she finished, she was left with the insecurities she still felt. Then again, if she sensed them, she figured her team would also come to those same conclusions.

She put down the nearly empty flowery cup and saucer and stretched her left arm to press the number of the youngsters in the Ops. It didn't really matter who responded to the call on the triangular formed speaker phone. This time, it was Nell.

"Yes, Hetty?" she said. "You wanted to check? I did send a text message to the team about Nikola Reid already."

"It's not what I wanted to check, Miss Jones, but thank you for letting me know."  
She clasped her hands in her lap. "I was wondering if Admiral Holmes informed us about the estimated time of arrival already?"

"Not yet. You want me to get in touch with the Admiral?" Nell carefully questioned.

All of a sudden, Hetty realized she had to know and she shook her head, answering "No, that won't be necessary, Miss Jones. That's something I can do myself."

Minutes later, she leaned back in her desk-chair, pondering over what Holmes had let her know. She shook her head. It should not matter.  
They had already discussed the matter of destroying the Jack-up when the team was in Los Angeles. So why, for heaven's sake, was it bothering her this much?  
Hetty checked her watch and shook her head again. Then she tiredly got on her feet and decided to join her small team of analysts upstairs.

"Mr. Beale, is there any chance to watch the camera feed you have for Shabla for some minutes?"

He swiveled his chair to face the tough, tiny boss. Eric had no clue why she would want to see it at this very moment. Although he expected some trouble might come ahead, he did not really foresee where, or what she might want to see or not see.  
"Sure. Though you should be aware of the fact that until now, we haven't seen the team on any of the footage", Eric explained.  
He then swiped his index over the screen and looked up at the main screen. He felt the urge to describe what they saw.

"This is North of where all of it happened. North of the lighthouse." Then, they waited until the next point of view appeared. Eric pointed on the screen "This is the street where the shooting and fire took place."

Hetty slowly nodded. "Miss Reid's place, I presume?"

"That's correct," Nell interfered with their discussion. "So from what Kensi told us, the team met with agent Callen right here." She motioned the section of Shabla on the map which she put on screen next to the camera footage. Then, underneath it, satellite views of the place appeared. "Now as you can see, there are all kind of fisher boats on the beach at this time of year."

Eric continued "This oil-rig thing is off-shore at exactly 6.3 miles."

"I see." Hetty briefly responded. In her mind, she made a quick calculation. Then she said "Get me on the phone with Mr. Hanna, will you?"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Black Sea || Jack-Up, 6 miles from the Shabla shore**

Right now Nika felt like the little energy she had, faded like light in a black hole. She wanted to stay unmoving until her body would finally give into the urge of pass out. Instead, her body was hauled up to a more or less standing position, putting at rest against the wall.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

He left the spot where Sam and Steven Moore had turned to go up the deck.  
'Just checking', Callen figured. His mind was in a whirl. Nika was alive, or at least Moore had wanted him to believe it. And she, a Comescu, asked for him — why? He shook his head, knowing she might lure him into something which was personal. A way to end this blood-feud, good or bad. In a way, he was alright with whatever the outcome would be. He felt okay with Sam out of the way. This was something he should do. Alone.

He peaked down over the rusty, orange guardrail and figured there were at least three more floors before he'd reach the bottom floor. There was no natural daylight, since it wasn't in one of the living areas of this place. A light bulb hardly lit the place. Sharp-eyed as ever, he trod down the stairs as lightly as he could. Callen had his gun ready to aim and shoot.  
Nothing and nobody on the first storey down. Then there were shadows, moving, lower.

One of the persons in the room stepped forward into the light and all he heard was "G. Callen."

* * *

 _Thank you for reading, and, as ever, a review is welcome!_

 _Kni®benrots_


	16. Eye to Eye, chapter 16

Eye to Eye

 _~ 'I'm good' — Callen's definition of those words really sucked. ~_

* * *

 **Eye to Eye, chapter 16**

Disclaimer: the characters of NCIS Los Angeles belong to CBS. The only thing that's all mine is the idea for this storyline.

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A/N Thank you so much for all those wonderful reviews on the 15th chapter, wotumba1, 974lk, F4llon, skippy, Linda Wiggington, JaniceS and EvaMcBain2009

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Black Sea || Jack-Up, 6 miles from the Shabla shore**

The man who addressed him was younger and taller than he was and had the looks of a movie star. Dark blond hair, a sturdy jaw line and a ditto chin. His eyes were as green as Callen's were blue.  
It was in a split second that Callen made a decision. It was a matter of curiosity.  
How did this man know his name?  
If he shot him – like he had shot Keelson, who knew his real identity, like Hunter had killed Alexa Comescu who told him she knew about his past — then once again he might not find out how this man knew his name and what else he knew. Did he need to shoot him before he got to know more? His curiosity won this time.

The man looked curiously at Callen, as if he was judging which danger might come from him.  
"We were just discussing how our family," and he motioned to the person behind him, before he continued "how our family and yours have some — how to say this, have had some issues in the past. Issues that should have been taken care of quite a long time ago."

There was the slightest Slavic accent in his language which proved he wasn't an American.

Callen had always had trust-issues, although he thought he was mostly over it by now. Well, this situation proved he had all reasons to distrust strangers. Reasons to dislike this region of Europe and reasons to let Hetty know he wasn't going back to any of the countries around the Black Sea. Here it was — another Comescu, who hinted to the fact he and Nika worked together.

"Drop the gun," the man ordered.

"Callen..."

It was nearly inaudible, it sounded unsteady and in a way apologetic. There was a hint of more in Nika's voice. Pain? A warning? Regret?  
He didn't know. Maybe it was a mix of it all.  
Callen clenched his jaw. He didn't want to think of how she fit it, didn't even take the time to shift his gaze to her instead of keeping concentrated on what the man's eyes and what he said.  
Despite the way Callen felt like now, betrayed, he managed to keep his voice cold, emotionless and harsh at the same time.  
"I should've known. Whenever there's trouble in this region of the continent, Comescus are involved," he said.

A short and huffing laugh came his way.

"Only we call it business in this part of Europe. And one would only notice us when we're facing some trouble or we can't set our goals. Which means, more specific, when someone decides to destroy our plans. Or when a Callen, the last of the Callens, happens to cross my and my family's path."

The man whipped back his head in a move to get rid of the long lock of hair from his eyes. He then sent another sly grin and mentioned again "You'd better drop the gun, agent Callen."

He narrowed his eyes and retorted "Or else?".

A loud chuckle came from the man. "Any suggestions about the outcome of this, Nika?"  
Although he addressed her, he never took the effort to face her. Instead, his gaze never left Callen's face. He never wavered when he lowered his voice, annoyed by the stubbornness of the other man "You know damn well that there really isn't an 'else'."

Then, when Callen still didn't lower the gun he carried, he started yelling. "You're not going to win this one!"

It was what Callen needed — the anger might make this man less concentrated. Only seconds from now until he could take the shot. Or, if necessary two shots.

"Don't…"  
There was something alarming in Nika's voice which distracted both man.

"Shut up!" Vladimir yelled her way.

"You and I can do what needs to be done." A small and confident smirk now appeared on Callen's face. "I'll deal with her later."

From the far corner of his eye he noticed there was no immediate danger coming from Nika. On the contrary, something was off. But with her staying in the background and in the shadows, there was no way he could find out what it was.  
If she was on the same side as this man, would he need to kill her, eventually? He trusted his own assessment, his gut feel and his abilities as a marksman. The many years of experience and the training — from this position, he still had the upper hand.

He demanded "I want her out of here."

"Don't..." Callen heard a short gasp when Nika spoke, her voice barely audible.

He sighed deeply before he slowly, very slowly lowered his Sig. He knew he still was in a good position to shoot.

Vladimir Comescu started laughing. "Don't tell me you're bargaining for the life of a Comescu now, are you?"  
Again, without a single glance at the woman who was related to him through their mothers' bloodlines. In the end, that proved to be his biggest mistake. A smug smile had appeared on his face when he added "The guy is utterly stupid, right, Nika?"

"You are." It came as a whisper.  
The kick she managed to place beneath his knee was far too weak, but it worked.

Callen read the shock in the eyes of the man, the distraction, and he didn't hesitate. Vladimir Comescu's shot sounded earlier. Callen's gun went off matters of a second later. That shot was lethal. The bullet which came from Vladimir's gun was not.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

The phone-call had been short and simple. Of course, Sam realized that it had been Callen's idea to come to this place. And of course, he should have realized that Hetty would never see eye to eye with Callen's plan, and now he realized why.

He hurried down the first two stairs, never letting his attention slip.

About twenty minutes from now, Hetty had announced.  
More than a quarter of an hour, less than half an hour. Once he found Callen and they both decided what to do, there would be about fifteen minutes left… Fifteen shitty short minutes, until a torpedo, coming from an unknown submarine would be fired this way.  
Fifteen full minutes to leave the Jack-up. Sam figured he and Callen could swim to reach the small rescue boat in which he just put Moore and prayed there were pedals in the boat to get away as far as possible within those fifteen minutes. He blew some air through his nose as in a huff.

Fifteen minutes - it became a mantra.  
Fifteen minutes and counting down.

The two shots which Sam heard one storey down startled him. He shouted "G?!"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Callen's lip twitched. Of course his partner was near and alert. "In here Sam. I'm good."

He knew it was a lie — he literally felt the blood ooze from where the bullet had entered his thigh. No arterial bleeding, but it needed to be taken care of soon. He decided to keep it to himself until Sam would reach the two of them.

He bit his underlip and, two large steps further, he lowered himself next to Nika. She'd slid down, her eyes drifted shut. It was gloomy in the part where she had stood, and only now he noticed the traces of dried blood on her face. Worse, Callen noted how her forearm and elbow were in a peculiar position. He carefully checked — there was no blood, but it didn't mean she wasn't hurt.

"Nika?"

For some seconds she remained unresponsive. Then there was a soft moan and her eyes fluttered open.

"Hey, thank you", Callen said. "If it —"

She blinked her eyes several times and slowly shook her head. Her voice sounded thin "I'm sorry."

Before he got a chance to ask her what she meant, Sam reached the place.

"Gotta get up, pal, before you learn how to fly the unexpected way." His voice sounded serious, despite the words he chose.

Slowly, Callen hoisted himself to a standing position. "You mean we need to get out of here?"

Sam nodded. "You bet we do. In about fifteen minutes from now, this place may not exist anymore. So, you and I'd better hurry a little. Hope you like a refreshing swim as well."

"Sam… We need to get her out as well."

"Fourteen minutes, G." Sam shook his head. "We can't —"

He grunted "You have to."

A mission impossible. Again, Sam shook his head, then he kneeled down and tried, as gently as possible, to lift the now motionless body of the younger CIA agent. There were some barely audible whimpers, replaced by a loud scream when he touched the left arm of the woman. He felt her body go limp, which probably was better after all, he figured.

"A full speed run wouldn't be that bad now," he grunted, noticing how Callen stayed further behind him. Then suddenly, he realized why. "Damnit G… What happened to the 'I'm good'? We're going to be blown up if you're not hurrying".  
He gritted his teeth, wishing the last flight of stairs up was shorter this time.

Then, much to his surprise, Sam heard the sound of a helicopter rotors and once he arrived on the deck, he recognized the Black Hawk Medevac. A team hurried out, and he shouted "two", knowing they'd understand. Two bright yellow gurneys were carried out and in a matter of seconds the female agent was loaded on the first.

Looking at the second, Sam expected Callen to see on it. Intensely pale by now and his jeans soaked with blood, the lead agent shook his head, went into the helicopter and carefully lowered himself onto one of the standard benches.

Eight minutes left. And Sam knew all too well that within these eight minutes, a Sikorsky like this would be far enough. He buckled up, his breath still coming in short pants, but at least he was okay. He silently watched how two of the medical crew were cutting off Callen's jeans and quickly cleaned and bandaged the right thigh of his partner.  
Sam shook his head. 'I'm good' — Callen's definition of those three words really sucked.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Istanbul, Turkey || American Hospital, 2 hours later**

He'd seen and been in hospitals all over the world, most of them run by the state. Sudan, Russia, Bosnia, Iraq, America. Now this was Turkey, and it didn't look different from the other places.  
The same hideous orange chairs, crowded, and although people spoke a different language, the emotions were the same. People crying, people coughing, people softly speaking or silently waiting. There was the smell — a mixture of sweat, antiseptics and perfume - and noises like phones ringing and nurses rushing by.

Sam Hanna hated places like this.  
He was one of the many people waiting for news and he knew he'd be in here for quite some time longer.

The medevac had taken them to Turkey, although Sofia had been closer. Yet they were here due to the simple fact that the helicopter crew was American, based in Ankara. Hetty had called him, only minutes ago, and he told her he was grateful for her quick response action plan. It had been in time and probably saved his and two more lives. And yes, he could hear from the long distance that she was worried about Callen.

Callen should be alright though, Sam knew. There was a nasty bullet wound in his thigh and having to run with it definitely wasn't the best decision Callen made, but it had been the only one. The stubbornness of his partner had surprised him, again.  
The CIA agent's condition was worse. It had been clear to him the moment he'd seen how the crew on the helicopter were checking her out and didn't understand all medical terms they shouted, louder than the roaring sounds inside the Sikorsky.

He heaved a deep sigh and checked his watch. It would be a long wait indeed.

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 _Thank you for reading. Your reviews are very welcome!_


	17. Eye to Eye, chapter 17

Eye to Eye

 _~ "Who says she is who she says she is?"~_

Eye to Eye, chapter 17

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A/N Now, this story is coming to an end —nearly…

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Ankara, Turkey || five days later**

"We've called him Nicolas. Nick in short," Grace said.  
She looked up from the tiny little child in her arms, very tired, and very happy at the same time. Like mothers who just gave birth looked like, Callen figured.

"You get it? Nicolas — Nikola. She, and you, kept me and Alec safe." She smiled at her NCIS co-worker, gratefully. "Is Nika around as well, Callen?"

Callen slowly breathed out, releasing the tension he still felt. Then he shook his head. "She should still be hospitalized."

He didn't tell it all; how it had stunned him, and Sam, to hear that Nika had left the hospital she was staying in Istanbul, even before Callen was dismissed. She was gone without even talking to him and he never had a chance to discuss what happened exactly with her.

It was something he couldn't share with his co-workers. They hadn't been around. They never observed, felt or were affected by — well, by something that had struck him more than he'd expected beforehand. And he still didn't really know what it was he felt.

"Anyway, it's sweet of you to drop by, Callen. Little Nick in here came earlier than we've expected, but look at him, he's healthy and strong." She most probably understood the words he never spoke and he didn't really mind that she changed the subject.

"Did you tell Hetty?" he was curious to know.

She shook her head and murmured. "Not yet. She doesn't even know about Alec." She paused for a second before she continued. "I know I should have told her. I mean, she's always been like… well, you know."

Callen nodded, remembering how he and Grace had first met, with Hetty mothering around a wounded Grace in the boat-house. At that time, he had felt jealous and left out, like he felt far too often in his childhood.  
Things had changed. He sent her an unusual and genuine, warm smile. "Hetty will feel like a true grandmother. You ought to let her know." Then he chuckled. "And you'd better hurry. We're moving homeward, Grace. The team will talk. They always do."

She let her gaze rest on his face. "How're you really doing, Callen?"

He shrugged and Grace could read the weariness on his face when he started talking. "Don't know. Like being sucked into a tornado and still trying to escape from it, still not sure which way is up and which way was the right one to go to. Maybe I need more time to process what really was going on and who was behind it, or why. So many things happened in these past few days. I mean… look at us. It was what, a little over ten days ago, when Hetty asked me to come over to get you safe. And here we are. You, with another healthy young son and me, well…"  
He motioned at himself, being seated in a wheelchair. "There's a military flight back home in only an hour from now, Grace, and I'm supposed to be on it. With a little luck, I'll be up and running in less than a month."

"We do need a replacement in here, for Moore, you know," she brought forward.

"Not my cup of tea, Grace, and you know it. There's no need to mention it."

She understood. "Let me know if he confesses anything," she asked, meaning Steven Moore.

"Will do so. He's supposed to be on the same flight." He clumsily maneuvered the wheelchair some times, and pushed himself up to place a tender kiss on her forehead. "Take care, Grace. And pop by when you're around in the States."

He noticed how her eyes got teary and she whispered "I heard what you said. Be happy, Callen."

"I'll try to, really want to, Grace. Thanks." And with a sincere smile he left, knowing Sam would still be waiting for him.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Military plane || Ankara – San Diego || January 14, 2016**

The flight back was a torturous one to Callen. He'd refused the heavier pain-killers but with the air pressure changing, the pain in his upper leg was back. There hardly was a sitting position which felt comfortable enough and never enough space to stretch his leg completely.  
It took some persuasion of Sam until he dry-swallowed some ibuprofen, hoping it would kill the headache he felt coming up as well.

He felt peevish with the everlasting stream of remarks and questions from his co-workers. He tried to ignore any of them — the talk about Grace having kids and still be working, the kids-talk of the junior agents, even questions about Joelle. It irritated and he deliberately closed his eyes.

And he knew it was going to be a long flight, especially when he heard the voice of Moore asking rather challenging "How you're feeling, agent Callen?"

He didn't respond. It was quiet for a while, then Moore tried again "You met my partner, I see." He then chuckled and added "And I heard. Right before the big bang. That metal is just amplifying, you know."

"Anything you say can and will be used against you, Moore." Deeks flatly recited the words he'd spoken so often when he was working on the street as an LAPD detective, and before, during his short career as a public defender.

All he got as a response was a huffed laugh. "I get it. You won't hear another word. Not another word."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS Office of Special Projects, Los Angeles || February 4, 2016**

"C'mon, Callen. No way you're going for a run," Deeks raised his brow when he heard the special agent in charge telling what he planned to do.

A smirk came his way. "What!? You're saying I can't?"

"You can't, indeed. No way you're cleared already. Nope, I'd call it stubbornness. Maybe foolishness." Kensi reasoned.

Sam leaned back in his office chair, observing his partner.

Callen had started with light desk duty a week ago, in the meantime working hard on his recovery with physical therapy. At the same time, Callen got annoyed by not being able to work in the field. Sure, he joined his team whenever there were sessions at Ops, but it wasn't the same. Whenever possible, Nell was in the field with the team.

"A run? You sure about that, G?"

Before he had the chance to respond, one of Eric's weird whistles sounded from the balcony. Four pairs of eyes turned to the younger tech operator. "What? You never heard the siren song of a water-hen? In fact, never mind. Up, at Ops, please."  
He turned and was at his office before the last one of the agents joined him — Callen wasn't exactly fast when he had to take the stairs, but at least he was able to use it again.

He leaned back against the large projection table, thus being able to avoid the strain on his right thigh. "What you got, Eric?" he asked.

A broad smile appeared on the analyst's face. "Like it or not, we've got a hostage situation at a shooting range. Nell?"

The red-haired woman took over, leaving it to Eric to put footage on the screen. "At about 10:15, we got a call from Carl Hartley, owner of the shooting range of Windsor Hills. He sent us live-feed and reported that three uniformed men came in and managed to keep about 10 other men and women hostage."

"And why would that be a case for us?" Kensi asked.

"Because, Miss Blye, the people who were taken hostage are all active marines, who, for once, decided to use this shooting range." Hetty's voice sounded at about the same pace as the sliding doors opened to mark her entrance. "So I suggest, ladies and gentlemen, that you hurry over."

Kensi and Deeks turned to leave, and so was Callen who knew he wasn't the fastest of them all. Then Sam glanced at Hetty, not sure whether he should invite Nell as well.  
There only was a short nod of the older case operator, who then addressed Nell. "Miss Jones, please do take your tablet and keep the footage running while you're on your way. Mr. Beale in here may direct you all to the best position."

"You sure Callen shouldn't join us? I mean, he's great in negotiating and you know it." Sam quietly asked as he knew that his friend and the agent in charge would be peeved when Hetty really decided to keep him out of the action. After all, this would be a case Callen might handle from the scene as well.

"He can do what needs to be done from this place. Make a decision whether you or Mr. Deeks will take care of the negotiation part of the job."  
The words came out confidently, yet Sam knew she was going to have a fight with the team leader. He nodded and gestured at Nell. "You ready?"

Once the two had left, the tiny operations manager addressed Eric. "Please have this live stream on my screen as well, will you, Mr. Beale?"

She sighed deeply before she went to her office, knowing all of the team would be alright with this assignment. All, except the most stubborn agent of her team. And she needed to face him now…

He wasn't behind his desk when she slowly took the stairs down. Hetty pursed her lips. With Callen, she never was completely sure how to handle him. She knew he was literally on the edge right now and he might just as well have joined the team, without letting her know.  
However, half a minute later the man she was contemplating about came in from the gym, wearing sports clothes and sneakers.

"You were going somewhere, Mr. Callen?"

He shrugged "Since you don't need me, I might just as well go for a run."

Hetty shook her head "Your body hasn't fully healed to do so, and you don't need me to tell you that, Mr. Callen."

He huffed a laugh. "So, Murrow keeps you updated? I should have known that. Well, a hike may do just as well. As long as I'm out of this place."

His voice sounded harsh and she didn't know if she deserved the way he treated and addressed her. She decided not to react to it.

"Please, dear boy… have a seat." She motioned to the rattan chair opposite of her desk. She sat down in her own desk chair, keeping her calm.

He still stood, reluctant and wayward. "If there's something you need to say, spill it, Hetty. You know damn well I should've gone with the others."

She slowly nodded. "Maybe you're right, maybe you aren't."  
Her gaze went past Callen as she leaned forward. She placed her elbows on the desk and, with her fingers laced, rested her chin on her hands. She paused a few more heartbeats, wondering how to discuss what she wanted to discuss with him.  
"There was another phone-call, even before the owner of the shooting range called in."

Again, he shrugged and said, smirking like only he could, "So?"

She gestured at the still empty chair. When he still refused to sit down, she sighed and asked "How's the leg, Mr. Callen?"

He huffed a laugh. "I thought Murrow kept you updated?"  
She didn't respond and he added "Nearly good enough for a short run, I suppose."

Hetty shook her head. "That's not what I heard, Mr. Callen. I need you back in the field whenever the time is right." She noticed how he was going to interrupt and she raised her hand, stopping him, as she continued "and yes, today would have been the right time."

Slowly and still more or less reluctantly, Callen lowered himself into the chair. He clenched his jaw and waited until she would explain.

"I need you to get properly dressed, Mr. Callen, and get yourself on to a plane to Washington."

He lifted his brow and Hetty understood she finally caught his genuine attention. "You see — the call came from the DOD."

Callen opened his mouth and again, she prevented him from interrupting. "Murphy Schreiber, JAG, requests your presence."

"Don't know the guy," he quickly retorted.

There was a short chuckle when she said "No, you don't, and neither do I, Mr. Callen. But the DOD asked for your assistance in Washington, since Steven Moore's case is brought before the court and to justice, and Schreiber wants you around."

He didn't particularly look forward to it. "What do they have against him?"

"Well… there's plenty as you understand from your own experience. If you look at it from a prosecutor point of view, there's about 55 pages of the usual legal blah-blah."

He got up. "If there's anything I can do to help getting the guy behind bars, well, I probably should, right?"

An appreciative smile came from the older woman. "You're so right, Mr. Callen. And I am well aware that Miss Stevens would have been the best second option. Or should I say, mrs. Omur Mamais? Well, you, as nobody else, knows she's better off at home these days."

"So I figure she finally told you herself?" He asked with rare full smile.

A warm twinkle appeared in the dark eyes behind the pair of glasses. "Oh, she sure did. I received a family picture as well, and she asked me to send you her regards."  
More serious then, she continued. "As I said, she would be the second option to testify against Moore. But since she isn't in the best condition to go, they asked for the CIA Operative. You remember Miss Reid?"

She noticed the sudden change in the man's s attitude.  
He shook his head. "No way." His eyes were hard now and she read the grief and distrust on his face.

"I don't exactly feel like meeting her, Hetty. I mean, there were Comescus concerned, you know that and I know that. She sneaked away before I got a chance to talk to her. I don't feel like talking to her now. No more ghosts of the past, Hetty. There's Comescu-blood running through her veins too. What if she— "

This time it was Hetty who interrupted. She shook her head and said "She is not, and I don't really think that right now, you're truehearted when it comes to your real feelings." There was a warmth in her voice which he didn't really expect.

He clenched his jaw, like she'd seen too many times when he sat in that same chair in the past.

"She was wounded badly when she was brought in, am I right?"  
He nodded, and she went on. "The very moment the physicians decided her condition was good enough, she was transported to a black site in Romania where the CIA thought it would be safer to continue the treatment."

She ignored his soft huff as he heard the word 'Romania' and carried on. "Only earlier this week she came back from Europe. She's being housed in Virginia with the Agency at the moment."

Callen shrugged again, replied with another 'So?' and she read him better than ever before. The nearly irritated, boring look on his face was what he wanted people to see. But then, there was the slightest spark of curiosity and something even more, even soft she caught and understood.

Hetty inhaled deeply and decided to mention what had bothered her. "You know, when Miss Stevens called, early January, I had my serious doubts whether or not it was wise to ask you to take care of this job. I knew you'd be on your own, I knew you perhaps needed time to process what went on in your personal life."

"Please, Hetty… What were you thinking?"

She shook her head and she looked up at his face, again with a warm smile. "Not meddling in your feelings, dear boy. It was just… well, whereas the other team members were taking some time off, you were available. I was well aware that perhaps it was you who might need a short vacation most. Instead, I chose to send you on an unauthorized assignment — nobody else knew about it." She swallowed some times. "It was so close to Romania."

Softer now than so far, Callen said "Whatever crime in that region is, Comescus seem to be involved. I just don't ever want to be in that part of Europe again, Hetty."

"We've checked the credentials once again, Mr. Callen." She shook her head, already denying what he was going to tell her.

"Who says she is who she says she is?"

* * *

 _Thank you for reading!_


	18. Eye to Eye, chapter 18

**Eye to Eye, chapter 18**

 _~ ""I suggest you hurry, dear boy. Mister Beale happened to see someone he saw before." ~_

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Disclaimer: This is a simple fictional story. Most characters belong to CBS. As for the others: names, places and incidents are made up. Any resemblance to real events or real persons are purely coincidental.

* * *

A/N First of all, sorry that it took so long to upload this chapter. Thanks again, Theresa, Ilse, Stefanie, Karine, Vicki, Linda, BlackBear, guest, Wotumba, for leaving your reviews!

* * *

Eye to Eye, chapter 18

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS Office of Special Projects, Los Angeles || February 4, 2016**

The seasoned handler of their team faced the lead agent once again. "We checked. CIA checked. There's not a single connection to be made to the crime family you are referring to, Mr. Callen."  
She pursed her lips and slowly leaned back in her desk chair. "Now, about your feelings of—"

"Again — don't interfere and please don't tell me what you think you know that I feel." It sounded harsh, he knew it but he didn't really care about it right now.  
"Listen Hetty, you obviously already agreed that I should be the one to be in Washington, so there's no way to refuse."

She frowned. "What makes you thing I agreed to it?"

"I'm not in the field, right? And I bet you booked me on a flight."

She just nodded, knowing he defeated her when it came to logic.  
Adding to that feeling he mentioned "And I think you need to watch the screen. There's a switch in positions at that shooting range. Maybe Sam and the others arrived."

"How did you—"

A smirk accompanied his words. "Your glasses. They work like a mirror."

She handed him a file-cover. "Everything you need. I suggest you keep director Vance posted."  
She smiled at the man who now rose, slightly wiggling his jaw. It was a sign he showed whenever he disagreed with a decision, but she could didn't really care — he didn't HAVE to like it. He was in the field long enough to understand that sometimes, assignments sucked. Without looking up at him again, Hetty decided to turn her attention to the case the rest of her A-team was working on, leaving it to Callen to study the time-table and the files before he left.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Washington DC || February 5, 2016, 01:52 PM**

Again, he felt like being a time-traveler. He felt refreshed when he arrived in the Capital of the United States, knowing he had the rest of the afternoon and the night to prepare for the next day.  
He didn't particularly look forward to the short meeting which was scheduled for within the hour with the JAG, but he could live with it.

Callen checked in at the George, a far too luxurious place to stay which he definitely wouldn't have picked himself. However, Hetty had. He redressed, changing his standard jeans and plain grey henley for a more sophisticated pair of trousers and a button down shirt. He then sent a short message to Gibbs, planning a short visit to his friend later that night.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Judge Advocate General Murphy Schreiber stood near the window of his office, overlooking the city's Navy Yard. He sipped some of the hot coffee from a simple polystyrene cup and shifted his gaze and attention to his guest who'd joined him.

"He's not going down easily", Schreiber said. "The man is slippery, trying to blame someone else all the time. But at least five men died in mysterious circumstances when he was around, and that is what we need to prove. Besides, he insists saying it was an illegal arrest on foreign soil."

Callen shook his head. "All I know is from hear-say. I haven't been around in Ankara and haven't witnessed. Neither did I take into account whether or not it was in territorial waters we arrested Moore. What I do know is that he said that erhm, some Romanian partners were in the lead and they tried to blackmail him. You know, like threatening him so he had to bring over weaponry and uniforms."  
He shook his head once again. "So far, our analysts checked his bank-accounts, traced his phone calls and personal life. The only thing that should really matter is that large sums of money were transferred from Romania to a bank-account in the Cayman Islands to another one in Zurich. So far, nothing on the owner of that account, but —" Callen frowned and used his left index finger at the same time to emphasize his words as he continued "It was just a hunch… those transfers took place at exactly one day after Moore disappeared for a trip to a sunny beach in let's say Bulgaria."

"Still, no real prove," Schreiber comprehended.

"Like I said." Callen said. He paused a second and asked "There should be some legitimate reasons you hold against him, right? Otherwise he wouldn't still be in custody any longer."

Schreiber sighed deeply. "Until now? Serious mistreatment of another federal agent. Which means we can and will apply punishment according to the federal laws."

Callen shook his head. "I might just as well head home. I mean, there's no reason for me to be in court tomorrow, right?"

Schreiber sent him a quick grin and remarked "All has its reasons, I suppose. Listen, this CIA agent is our key witness. I thought you were sent over to protect her."

Without finishing his coffee, Callen put down the cup and turned away from the window. He let out a slow breath and managed to control his words, but not the anger he felt. He scowled at the other man "You contacted my superior?"

Schreiber copied the way Callen had put aside his cup. He then faced the agent, wrinkled his brow and looked seriously. "Well, Vance mentioned something like that." He shrugged and said "Listen, if you have your doubts about this, contact him.

"Will do so."  
Callen realized his reply sounded callously and Schreiber did not really deserve that. He raised his arm, ready to shake hands, waited until Schreiber understood and added "Anyway, good luck with this case."

There was no use to continue the conversation, so he then turned and left the office.

Three storeys down, he wondered if he should contact Hetty or Vance. In a way, Callen knew that it never was Vance's decision. He expected Hetty was behind it, puppeteering and sending him on a mission in which he had no real saying. It was frustrating, worse – annoying - like it was.  
Intuitively he felt he should take a cab back at the hotel, check out and leave.  
However, without realizing, he already was heading southward. It wasn't every day he had a chance to visit his good friend Jethro, and if he was lucky, Gibbs and his team would be around in the NCIS headquarters.  
The cold and windy early February day in Washington made him shrug deeper in his dark brown leather jacket, and by the time he was halfway crossing Capitol Street Bridge over the Anacostia Callen knew his team had been right when they told him it was too early to go for a run. It was hardly a 2.4 mile walk, which should be easy, yet there was a faint but continuous dull and throbbing feeling that reminded him that he was shot less than a month ago.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS headquarters, Washington DC || 5h of February, 03:12 PM**

After a short ID-session, Callen entered the building. There was a second of hesitation when he got closer to the stairs heading up to director Vance's office. Instead, he peeked around the corner of the bright orange cubicles. No Gibbs, McGee or DiNozzo, nor did he spot the newbie of the team, Ellie Bishop.

But then, the enthusiastic scream, accompanied with a rush of a white lab-coat and the very tight and dear hug of Abby Sciuto made his day.

"G. Callen! You finally came to see me! Dinner's on me!" her husky voice sang.

He couldn't help but smile back at the forensic expert.

Abby's face changed from extreme happy to a sadder look. "Oh wait. There's the bowling night with the nuns and I can't be missed. Wait, you could join me! Oh wait. You came here to see Gibbs. He and the team are on a case, they should be back in a sec. Or wait. You're—"  
She swallowed several times, horror now clearly in her eyes. "You're not in here to… to tell Vance you're… You found another… Not, are you?" she blurted.

She didn't finish her sentences, and Callen shook his head and sent her a relaxed half-smile. He used the nickname Gibbs used for her as well.  
"Abs… Relax. Just a brief discussion with Leon, because of some sort of short case in town and well… I hoped to see you all around. Better than opening my laptop to start with the paperwork and finish the files Hetty put in there for me, right?"

"Caf-Pow in the lab!" She rushed past him, leaving him no opportunity to decline her offer and so he just followed her, wondering how it was possible that someone so serious when it came to work, and so impulsive when it came to her way of communicating, stole so many hearts.

He leaned against one of the many cupboards and watched how she sipped the caffeine beverage through a straw, while pressing some keys on the computer. "How've you been, Abs?" he wanted to know.

Her pigtails swayed when she looked up at him and her greenish eyes sparkled when she replied "G. Callen! That was just what I wanted to know from you!"

He chuckled. "Well, you know…"

She interrupted immediately "No way I know! Woows. So, what's new? Life, partners, love, work, your team, the little Ninja …" Again, she took the straw and sipped from the large red-and-yellow sippy.  
A short ping got her distracted and her eyes grew wide when she turned to the screen again. "The little Ninja."

"Everything's fine with Hetty," Callen prompted.

She shook her head fiercely, which made the black pigtails sway even more than before. Then she put the cup down, observed it seriously and then repeated. "Hetty."

From the small speakers next to her computer screen, Callen recognized the no-nonsense voice of the small operations manager.

"I know you're there, Mr. Callen."

He got on his feet, joining Abby until he was standing in front of the small web-cam of the computer in the Washington office. Seriously now, he asked "What's wrong, Hetty? Not the team, is it?"

"They're fine. They're fine, Mr. Callen. Now, about Nikola Reid. I suggest you go on and see how she is."

Her words were spoken calmly. Still, he was peeved by the fact she persistently urged him, even now, to join Nika.

He lifted his chin, stubborn as ever and replied "I'll see her tomorrow, when Moore's in the courtroom. Why did you tell the JAG I am around only to 'protect' her? I told you not to mess—"

The older woman shook her head. "I suggest you hurry, dear boy. Mister Beale happened to see someone he saw before."

"Be more specific, Hetty," he reluctantly encouraged. "Who is it, where did Eric see this person before and where is she or he now?"

Behind her, he noticed the pictures which Eric probably placed on the large screen so he could see it. A lean man, dark brown hair, his shoulders slightly slumped, who didn't look too clever, was on guard on an average street in an average town.  
Callen narrowed his eyes in concentration. "Wait, he was there. The silent companion of Nika's neighbor. I joined her on a short visit to them and they told us about the many people who came and went, he was the one who asked if…" He stopped. "Where is this guy right now, Hetty?"

The clear and young voice of Nell Jones joined their boss. "This guy is called Marin Comescu, Callen, and he is posting in front of hotel George in Washington. Nika Reid has a room at the same hotel you're staying in. To be more specific, room 104. Yours is 111, right across the corridor. And you can be in there in exactly… 15 minutes from now."

"Quite optimistically, Nell. I didn't come here by car," he muttered. "Twenty minutes, if I'm lucky enough to catch a cab." He paused, looked away from the screen for a second, then he suggested to his Los Angeles boss "Ask Vance for a back-up, will you?"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Hotel George, Washington DC || 5h of February, 04:06 PM**

There had been so many times that men who belonged to the Comescu family came for him. To kill him.  
This time, he didn't really understand. Hetty had practically ordered him to go to Washington, knowing Nikola Reid would be around. Nikola, Nika, who was supposed to be a key-witness in the case against Moore. Nika who was supposed to be a CIA operative. And yet… Callen wondered what Hetty really planned, what the real reasons of him being around, were. What did it mean to have the Comescu-blood running through one's veins?  
For once, Callen was glad that for this domestic flight, Hetty had arranged a clearance statement so he carried his own gun.

He got out of the taxi opposite of the hotel and observed the entrance for only some seconds. He knew who to look for, but didn't spot the Comescu. Unless they found out in which room he was staying, this Comescu might just as well have joined Nika to make new plans how to get rid of him. Or…  
He sighed deeply, still not knowing if the intuitive feeling he dealt with was the right one.

He let his gaze go over the nearly empty lobby of the hotel – nobody suspicious – and calmly rushed to the elevator to the floor where his room was. He checked his door. Untouched – the small scrap of paper was still in the same place.

Callen drew his gun, not really knowing what to expect. Should he wait for a back-up? Probably.

But thinking ahead he decided differently. He sneaked closer to the room Nell had told him Nika was staying in. He wrinkled his brow, knew he hadn't missed this Comescu man. He now was close enough to eavesdrop on any conversation that took place in this room.

"Make — an accident."  
It sounded muffled and Callen missed some words. He knew exactly which. For a second, he assumed the man who spoke might be talking about him. The fact that there was the indistinct response, from farther away, from another male voice wasn't a good sign. Callen took a deep breath. If he'd been around with Sam, he would have had the other man kick in the door. Not him, not in his condition. Inwardly, he cursed.  
He looked around and made a decision he knew not everyone would appreciate. He took the right position, smashed the outside of the fire-alarm and quickly pushed it.

A loud, ringing noise sounded and doors all around this corridor opened. People rushed out the rooms, some of them panicking, others reluctantly, in shock or angry. It was what he counted on.

The door of room 104 was one of the last ones that opened. Callen never hesitated. He had his gun still drawn and aimed at the least obvious part someone expected to be shot at – their feet. Three shots were fired, two men were lying on the floor of the hotel, crawling in anguish. Both of them not able to walk away from the scene.  
With his gun still pointed at the men, he demanded "Throw me your guns."

The men shared a quick glance and one of them tried to pull his too fast in Callen's opinion. With a shake of his head he said "uh-uhm, slowly… Lent… Bavno." He reminded the men that he'd understand them, even if they'd preferred a chit-chat in their own language. He then stretched out his left arm, motioning he still wanted the guns.

"We still know where to find you. Callen. There's only you, against many of us," Marin Comescu mentioned, his voice filled with loathing. "We should've known you would be around with her… they should've killed her mother, being a dishonor to the family. Look what comes from something like that. Fighting her own blood!"

"Shut up," he snarled. "Guns, now."  
Was it the rough look, the two days' stubble - a way to show he didn't want to be messed with? Both men handed their handguns. From the corner of his eye, Callen noticed the familiar dark-blue vests with white printing on it.

"Cuff them," he ordered, knowing the back-up arrived. He entered the room. Nothing on the bed. He heard the tabs of the shower running. Opened the door. Closed his eyes for a split second. He knew what he might find.

The Comescus had tried to make it look like an accident.

Her left arm in a cast. Partly undressed, probably losing her balance while opening the tabs, sliding away, her head against the wall? That's how it looked.  
He hesitated before he carefully checked what he needed to check. Index and middle-finger loosely in her neck. Heartbeat, slow.

Callen let out the breath he was holding. Got up. Felt a comforting hand on his shoulder, and looked in the paler yet vivid blue eyes of his friend. Then Callen squatted down again, unfolding a large towel now.

"You can't carry her out of here yet, G," Gibbs softly spoke. He read something in the bright blue eyes. Haunted, and then there was something he couldn't put his finger on. More than just care for a victim. Definitely more.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Hotel George, Washington DC || 5h of February, 4.46 in the night**

He thought just slumbered. Still, he woke up, startled, knowing he missed something that changed. It surprised him. Until now, Callen always was the alert one. What changed?

The words came from the dark. From the bed, next to the large and comfortable armchair he sat in. "It's okay. It's just me."

He relaxed. Knowing he let the agent-mode slip felt awkward. She was okay, or so she said. Callen knew better though. During the first hours after Gibbs and Ducky finally left, Callen finally took some time to read the files Hetty had handed him. It was more than just 'case-related'.

There were pictures in it, pictures made by the medics who first examined her. Shoe-size 11.5 in her right side, practically printed in. It must have been that same foot which had broken and shattered the bone of her elbow and lower arm. It had nauseated Callen. For as far as he understood, it was doubtful if she'd ever be able to really use her left arm, her dominant one, again, like in the past. It might be the end of her career. A serious infection of the open wound had been difficult to handle. Worse, her spleen was removed and that surgery caused a collapsed longue. Exactly on the other side as where her ribcage was damaged already. She'd been on oxygen for a full week before returning to the States.

Callen shook his head. No way she was fully recovered already. Not like him. In fact, it was doubtful that she'd be in the field soon.  
The last attack, well, it wasn't that bad. Ether quickly washed from her system, and there was a shallow head-wound. He shook his head.  
"It's good to hear, Nika. We're good in here. Now, try to catch some sleep."

There was a soft moaning yawn. "Dunno."  
It was quiet for a while, then she added "I'm sorry."

It puzzled him. "Sorry for what?"

There was a rustling sound from the blankets on the bed. A long pause, followed by the murmuring "Being… part of them. Comescus. I — well, I never knew. I never want to be… I'm Reid. Nikola Reid. People call me Nika. Never… I never felt being a Comescu. I'm sorry for —"

He shook his head, knowing she couldn't see in the dark. "It's okay. I'm okay with it. And you need to catch more sleep. Tomorrow, we'll get rid of Moore. Let's just try and forget what we were told."

She yawned again, then she was quiet again. There were deeper breaths, a sign she was asleep again. He smiled. Rest would help. Sleep, and forget the rest, just forget the world, for next few hours.

* * *

 _Wait... there will be a short epilogue which really end this storyline._ _Thank you for reading, and, as ever, a review is welcome!_

 _Kni®benrots_

* * *

If I lay here  
If I just lay here  
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Forget what we're told  
Before we get too old  
Show me a garden that's bursting into life

All that I am  
All that I ever was  
Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see

I don't know where  
Confused about how as well  
Just know that these things will never change for us at all

If I lay here  
If I just lay here  
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

[chasing cars ~ snow patrol]


	19. Eye to Eye, epilogue

_**Eye to Eye - epilogue**_

* * *

 _~ "No way Sam. We kept in contact because… well, you know. My father, Arkady." ~_

* * *

Disclaimer: This is a simple fictional story. Most characters belong to CBS. As for the others: names, places and incidents are made up. Any resemblance to real events or real persons are purely coincidental.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS Office of Special Projects, Los Angeles || April 8, 2016**

He demonstratively leaned back in the office desk, stretching his legs. "Me coming with you? Not happening," he said.

"Oh, please, Callen. You'll miss all the fun!" Kensi exclaimed.

He shook his head again and motioned at his in-box. "I'll have all the fun, in here, you see? Now go on and enjoy yourselves.

He quietly observed Deeks and Kensi, who were disappointed when he decided not to join them for a quick pizza and a movie night. Then, he felt the glare of his partner coming his way.  
"What?"

The large, former SEAL sat, his elbows resting on the clean desk. He shrugged. "You. Your mood. Your non-communicating."

He shrugged and smirked "Yet you love me."

Sam was quiet for a while. How many years they worked together? He knew his partner well enough. Even now, it seemed that Callen avoided to share his inner thoughts. "I don't get it, G. You know about your real name now, you've met your father, you spent some time with Anna…"

"No way Sam. We kept in contact because… well, you know. My father, Arkady..." He shrugged and smirked "Besides, she's far too young. And like you mentioned, think of having to spend Christmas with Arkady. No way!"

"What I was trying to say—"

"Michelle is waiting with supper." Callen interrupted, just to quit the discussion which went in a way he didn't have to like. He heaved a big sigh. "Look Sam, go on and enjoy your night and weekend with your wife and family. I'll be fine."

Sam got up, chagrined because in one way or another, Callen managed to annoy him and the rest of the team. "Fine, as in non-communicating. Gloomy. Not wanting to share any fun. Peeved. Unsociable. Irritated. Irritating. Pesky."

"I hear you."

Without any of the usual light banter, Sam took his laptop and his bag. "Enjoy your weekend."

"Same to you," Callen replied, still leaning back in his chair, annoyed by now. Once his partner closed the large wooden door behind him, he slowly got up, poured the last bit of coffee in his cup and got back to work.

"He has a point there, Mr. Callen."  
Henrietta Lange had taken her small purse, ready to leave OSP for the weekend. It hung across the shoulder of her red pantsuit. "You haven't been that easy-going lately, young man."

He felt her gaze going over his face, something he didn't like since it made him feel berated like a schoolboy. There was an itchy feeling of being mothered, perhaps even manipulated, once again. He looked up, opened his mouth and wanted to let her know, but he knew it was senseless. Instead, he just shrugged. "I'm going to grab a pint of beer once I've finished this pile of unfinished reports Hetty. I'm fine, really."

"Oh, I never doubted that, in case you wondered. There's a different to being fine, on you own, or having fun with people who consider you as a friend. As family, perhaps."

He shook his head. "They all have their own families and friends to go home to. They should stick to that, you know. And as I said, I'm going to be fine. Run at the beach tomorrow, another one this Sunday. I'll see you on Monday," he said, turning his attention to the screen again.

All she did was shake her head when she left the building as well.

A long hour later, Callen closed his laptop, took out his CAC and took his bag. He checked his watch. Early enough to grab a pizza, get changed and find a place in his favorite bar. Get into the hustle and bustle of Venice, blend into the crowd, watch the sunset and the ocean and be just a guy like any other guys.

He stretched, took his grey jacket and his bag. Then he looked around and knew he was the last one to leave the building, so he put on the alarm, turned off the lights and closed the door behind him.

His car was the only one left of the team, and for the eye of the camera, the only one on the parking lot the OSP personnel used.

His, and another one. A car he didn't know. Parked in the shadows.

He drew his gun.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

She'd known he would be acting like this. He was an agent, he never expected anyone to be this close to their secret office in the middle of town.

In a way she felt sorry for him.

He kept his gun aimed in her direction, and she decided to step out of the shadows.

Her hair was a little longer and she wore it in a short pony-tail. The lavender dress she wore was feminine, accentuating the curves of her body. No place to hide a weapon.

She flashed him a smile, read his thoughts and shook her head.  
"It took me a day to find this place, you know."

He shrugged, the ocean blue of his eyes nearly icy in his glare. "Easy enough for the Company. I suppose they finally decided to share their and our secrets?"

She shook her head. "They don't know. I quit — had to quit," she corrected her own words. Then she wet her lips, the look on her face less determined now. "I… well, I thought, maybe… Maybe we could just have an ordinary conversation without the distress and those work-related things. You know."  
Coming to LA, being here, now felt as a big mistake. From the papers of the JAG, she found out about NCIS in Los Angeles, and from someone of the LAPD she heard about their liaison, and his whereabouts.

It was quiet for another beat. Then he finally lowered his gun. "You quit?"

"Felt like the only thing I could do. With this arm now I'll never be cleared for full duty again, not even after another surgery." She shook her head, let out a soft sigh and shook her head again.  
Underneath the streetlight, her hair appeared darker, or her eyes bluer, Callen noticed. "So?"  
He posed the short question, trying to sound as indifferently as possible.

She shook her head once more and glanced his way, uncertain now. "So. Like I said, I—" Then she shrugged. "So, nothing." She moved, turning away from him. In a softer voice, she said "Bye, Callen. Take care."

She walked to her car and opened its driver's door.

"Nika?" His clear voice sounded now.

She halted, looked around. "It's Nicole now, Nicole Andrews. Farmer and writer. I thought it might be better that way."

"Okay by me. So, how about that conversation during a dinner?" he tilted his head slightly and smirked slightly. No woman with cuffs. No real Comescu. He might just give it a go.

 _fini_

* * *

 _Thank you so much for sticking to this story. Mayby, once, in the future, I might write a sequel. But not anywhere soon..._


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